I've never been
One to allow myself
To get invested
And attached.

But hey, look.
You're something
I'd definitely have trouble
Getting over,
If I got over you
At all.

It was written
In my book of life,
Using my blood as ink,
Not that I mind.

I have scars to bare,
That show my own story,
That I wrote
However poorly.

And I remember vividly,
I believe it was seventh grade,
Other students stirring a panic,
Because I drew a rainstorm
In red ink.

And I remember
Confessing my ailment,
And it being used against me.

I remember
The destruction of my name
Upon things I'd never dare to do.

For mortal men
Will not find pride in your smile,
Rather shame in your scowl.

But such is the nature of cowards,
And I have found
That I am needless
Of cowards,
And cowards are hopeless.

I have found
In search through the mortal kind,
A being of the same like
As myself.

While our differences are
Many,
What makes us the same
Is powerful
And compatible
Enough.

Now, darling dear,
I have made a choice.
If they would halt their attacks,
I will finally
Erase myself
From his narrative,

For you are the
Only choice for me.

It is human nature
To feel torn down
But it is the nature
Of hope
To build you back up.