You bit your lips,
All bloodied and damp
From the despair
That consumed your teeth

Your eyes
weary and lifeless
From the silent nights that fueled
Your torment

Your body,
A testament to the
Musings of a wrecked ship
That is yourself

Your words eager to blow forth
From the mouth
That has rolled with
The bitterness of dark solitude

Your mind
a mere shell
of madness and escape

Your life
An empty message
That the world is a hopeless clash
Of selfish souls
Thirsty of imprinting their kind
With the demons
They themselves have reared

Growing wilder now
Flowers give red shoots in spring
The year starts again

I try to explore
The ice plains and green buds of
The Tomorrow land

Jumping from tall peaks
The flint of life is sharper
Than any flower

I sit myself down
And breathe the pollen deeply
Summer comes and goes

you and i share the same skin and
because of that, i will keep you safe.

do not be afraid of your chest tightening,
i will help you breathe.
do not be afraid of failing,
i will help you succeed.
i will remind you that your scars
and your insecurities
and your emotional tremors
do not define who you are as a person.
i will let you get angry and
i will make you cry to show you
that it’s okay to be human.
i will give you space.
i will let you venture and explore
and expand your mind for
as long as you need to.

i will appreciate that you are able to forgive
even though i hate that you are too forgiving.
i will love the fact that you drink orange juice
out of the carton even though everyone else
hates it.
if you want to drop out of college and
become a starving artist on the streets of
a city that you’ve never stepped foot in
until now,
then i will support you entirely.

i will paint beautiful pictures in your mind
that your hands can gracefully translate
to paper so the entire world can see you
the way i see you —

as intelligent,
as interesting,
as important.

you and i share the same skin and
because of that, i will keep you safe.
you were mine before you were
anyone else’s, and it will
always be that way.

Like a violin,
only a little bigger.
The darkness of a cello,
the sweetness of a violin.
It sings a lullaby
to the child in the crib.
Loud and soft,
harsh and gentle.
It's the middle,
it's the best of the four.
Though it's not as popular,
it's still what I do.
It's still sings the song
that I want to sing.