I don't want to write rhymes,
I want to tear my pain apart
into perfect, delicate
rectangular pieces
and feed it to my friends,

Then I want to rip their flesh apart
and feed it to my pain,
I want to give them rain,
let their prayers for sunshine
be in vain,

I don't want to destroy a wall,
I want to burn all the cages inside me,
I don't want a key,
I want to knock a door down,
and I don't want to bandage you,
I want to cure me.

Either I can swim or
I'd rather sink,
Either a storm or
not even a drizzle;
teach me balance, please.