I've always feared the little things,
Because they're what stole my heart.
At first they'd sprout it's tender wings;
Then tear them and off, and me; apart.
So, I learned to hide my fragile self,
Behind walls that no-one could breach.
My broken parts on the top of a shelf,
In a box, that no soul could reach.
But then, you reached a lone hand out;
Butterflies broke through my ribs.
Ten-thousand words that I longed to shout,
Rooted themselves on my lips.
The little things will always scare me,
That much may always stay true.
But you,
You crazy,
You utterly absurd
You punch-something beautiful psycho.
There's no better feeling than being terrified by you.