Come find me,
paranoid and alone,
come fine me.
Come seek me,
angular staircases now only lead to poor, bland walls bleeding cheap paint and verbal malevolence.
Please, come find me.
Defining problems that have no answers split’s the streets and delivers previously spent thrills.
We’ll gather twigs and sticks and build ourselves a monument celebrating what it means to be Alive.
We’ll place it on the pier next to the highway home
and be reminded every time
they beat you and leave you and strike you and bite you
To embrace the hate and use it for inspiring the youth.
And, when you come find me,
I promise not to play games.
I’ll be out on the pier next to our pile of pride, patient, and
brilliantly shining like a beacon
attracting only your curious human nature.