you are chaotic, and beautifully broken
standing stoic and silent
but the earth thrums with your screams

there is no romance to be found in pain
fret not about idealism and misconception;
i know how you suffer

but there's so much love in you,
you could make the soulless feel again
too much passion for you to know what to do with

never shown enough compassion to understand
that your mind, ill as it may be, is gorgeous
you are not awful, but awe-inspiring

hard work wears you down
but your hands are still so soft;
they were meant to be held, and kissed

you were born to be adored
and feared and wanted, to confuse with your complexity
so that only the best of people will stand with you

side by side with you, with open eyes
and open arms and open hearts
there is war in your chest and these friends will bring you peace

the world has, since birth, shown you destruction
volleyed hatred and scorn in your direction
but here is its reconciliation:

these people that love you are soldiers
ready to help you win the wars that explode in the spaces between your ribs
they will help you breathe, and smile, and sleep