On the steps of love,
Bathing in light a stranger approaches me,
Spitting fire, claiming my eternal rest false,
No actions are free of judgement,
So I roll these words up and smoke them into my lungs,
Paused, holding until my features speak more than if I were to exhale, (the truth),
In minutes the sight of the stranger recedes,
Not sure if their power nearly took a life they were trying to save,
Sticks and stones may bring on death but words give them a target,
A resistance to the known struggles,
Demons have many faces and oh do I admire them all,
Yet the further we did, it's from the sky they fall,
So buried we are along with the facets of our emotions,
Those still lucky enough to breathe face corrupted air,
And we will set for to our insides,
Becoming the words once trapped inside.