I know my poems
Will descend further
Into the dark
Recesses of my mind.

I will stay
The blade from striking.
May this match
Never come to light.

Do i have power?
Don't read this poem.
My lovely dove
My saving grace.

I don't want you
To know my sorrow.
I want to see
Your smile grace your face.

I want to watch your
Cheeks get reddened
Just like they did
Not long ago.

I want your embrace
I need your medicine
Oh Ambrosia,
Stay my hand.

I am not worthy
Of your love to me.
I am not worth
All your time.

I am nothing,
I feel so empty,
No one deserves
My sorrow.