telling me to find
my way out of
the dark, like
cold hands on my
neck, like blankets
on my spine, like
a distraction in the
form of thoughts about
her. the all-encompassing
fact haunts me that
i am important,
and that that alone
is my burden to
bear.
like sleepy sweet
eyes and the jagged
edge of his canines,
i'm wrought to accept
that the validity of
my very real purpose
can be found in the
eyes of my Father.
i am so scared.
the night weans and
wears, but somehow
the lights are on and
the falsified bright burns
red through my eyelids.