She sits upon a single stool
in the middle of the kitchen
Gazing upon congealed food
and hopes she is forgiven
for gazing upon the knife block
wishing every living thing dead
She doesn't have a problem
cleaning up the blood of others
but, what goes on in her head
Is her hatred for violence
Her absolute despise of distrust
Her almost implacable resolve
to make it dead, if she must
She abhors the deadly whispers
that critiques her daily choices
She sits alone upon a stool
trying hard to ignore the voices

Mountain, lean on me.
Let me comfort you,
Cry your creeks onto
My shoulder.

Oak tree; weeping willow
At heart. Here,
Find shelter from the rain
Beneath me.

Girl, grow strong enough
To carry the weight of
Your beauty.
Concrete cross; boulder burden

Of features and curves beheld
In craving by wide-eyed men.
A curse at times, to have
Your golden soul shine through

To the outside of your being.
Until then, lean on me.
Let me comfort you.
Cry your every drop of fatigue

Onto my shoulder.
Find shelter beneath me.
I can hide the sun from your eyes.
See: Love is sizeless.