If I could scrape it off of you
I would.
You know...

The pain.

The frozen fire
Whos burn Is just Numbness.

The funny mirror
That makes the good small
And the bad A blurry mess

The empty fear Of the nothing
You're afraid You've become

But you are not lost
Because when you wrote
On the train
I found it flying in the air
And I gave its warmth
To a cold man

When you cried through pen strokes
I draped it across a young womans heart
So that she may love again

When you loved the edges of everything
And then wrote it red
in paper cut
Blood

I held it like a map

To help those who
Need to find you

Yes...

But mostly to help you
Find yourself