Listen
I don’t want the crafted you
I don’t want the person you want me to think you are
I want the real you
Whether in prose or in person
I want the you that cries before the moon because you think she doesn’t love you
I want the you that’s been sculpted by pain
Throw yourself at me
With all the fury of a class five hurricane drunk off destruction
I want you to cut off your ******* hands and paint your world
I want you to pound your fists against the very walls you put up
To cry before the demon that is yourself
Until your knees buckle and that wall drips with the blood of your spite
Tell me who it is you hold in contempt
Tell me who it is that holds your heart at gunpoint
Spare me your ******* delusions
Awaken the beast that slumbers in the darkest chambers of your heart
Rouse that foul creature to bear the weight of your rage
If not
Then why