Love is a battlefield we are flying arrows when we hit flesh and one more soldier is down to the ground heavily armed with dreadful hopes in hand dead are they then alive they become as their blood are pouring down like milk as they go down in hysterical laughter they finally make it we become merely objects cutting sharp whoever is on site, we don’t know what the **** we are doing. but who is shooting us at the enemy? who has sharpened us till we bleed? thrown our strengths in the fire drown them into the water ‘til our wooden bodies get tired then break as they get finished? chanting at fate’s face the only thing we have held until that very moment that once and for all cheaters conquer the world good ones make it to the finish line.
I feel like love is not our battle. We participate but it isn’t up to us, it happens without our hands involved. Love is something greater than ourselves.
I’m often afraid Of what I can’t always say Not knowing is sure to make fear Multiply upon itself until I cannot Breathe and my heart races as if it Can run away despite my body’s Stillness Frozen like a rabbit hides from Slathering wolves But my wolf is not so solid, its sharp Teeth and ember eyes change into Something with which I cannot Reason Maybe it is nothing I fear Dark branches stretching out Into night drenched Solitude Headlights my only solace from the Dizzy roads and inky stars What are they hiding, those Branches Perhaps wolves, perhaps nothing I prefer the wolves
I write on my skin, With an instrument that is sharp. I indent on this canvas that is so paper thin, I am at the cliff’s scarp.
I draw a line across my wrist, but this must not persist. I line my face with a beautiful smile, Maybe I can keep this appearance up for a little while. My effort is consumed by a concept called life, For happiness and not loneliness I will strife.
One day I hope I will no longer draw these lines, One day I hope everything will be fine.
I am a collection of shattered, broken glasses. My sides and edges are sharp and may cause a wound to whoever dare to hold me in their hands. You may think that only my large shards can hurt but the truth is, it's the small ones that can create the most pain.
Despite these things, is your love still willing to embrace my brokenness?