With everything that has happened,
I need a hero.
Writing blindly doesn't help anymore.
I need a new hero, a new savior.
Explaining myself, My views,
Possibly going too far,
Dealing with my disorder, my disease, my destruction.
I need a safe haven.

weareallguiltyofsomethingcalledprejudice

I had a dream.

You doodled on my skin,
And left your name.
You claimed me,
And, in return,

*I claimed you.

I am not afraid
To be real.
Just as long as I have Kestrel
To do it for me.
My alter-ego,
My twin,
My alias.
My name to most is unknown,
But they still know it.
They still know me,
*Kestrel

So much meaning behind so few words.
A story, mostly hidden, yet to be told.

I'll share it with you, if you wish.

Hidden in poetry is
A past,
A present,
A wished-for future,
And pain.
So much pain.
And love.
So much love.

It contradicts itself, mostly.
A beautiful song, sung by the pen and paper,
That shows horrific, or beautiful, things.

I'll show them both to you, if it is so desired.
I have both, now at least.
Don't you see?
The beauty, love, and surrender hidden in these words
Are for you.
You are my inspiration,
Poetry is... *My escape.