Hitting my own nerves,
I subject myself to the reading of words
Before the curve,
Unheard
Does anyone take the time to heal
all the other wounded birds?

Aren't both sides gathering the nerve?
Weaved into the world,
Darkness
Clutched round their hearts and necks to preserve
like strings of pearls
A world breeding monsters
out of innocent little girls.

Real-
is the courage to wake everyday.
your heart refusing to not play
its song.
with a bountiful, limitless forte.
No mezzo, no piano.
Life is the finest concert hall and stage.
And I will never
ever
refuse to play.