And my words were like water which spilled through each crevice,

The starving thirst of need for an understanding as your own,

Felt through the gullet of self-hatred and intense guilt,

For the waters of love came but only in drops like rain on a cloudy afternoon,

Mis-used and misinterpreted as a hurricane which swept its path and stripped everything naked,

As the passionate, ***** creation replaced that of a scarred and battered young hopeful,

Continuously dreaming of a calm moon and soothing stars in wake.