Am I a thing so unsavory,
As to be spared all flattery.
Am I a thing so unlovely,
To be ignored by those few friendly?
What am I?
Am I a breeze?
To flow so gently by?
What am I?
Am I a breath?
As intangible as a sigh?
I think. I feel. I want. I Crave.
The feel of loving arms.
But my mind says,
“No, not now dear friend.
Such things will bring you harm.”
But oh, the need, the burning want,
That fills my heart and mind.
Something that is lost and sought,
A dangerous thing to find.
Again my mind comes to light,
And again it says,
“To want such things isn’t right,
and you should be ashamed.
“For don’t you know that when you love,
you frighten them away?
Your heart gives love too easily,
Though we know it would not sway.
“They are frightened, and I too,
when speak of these things you do.
What if you were to trust again,
And below the floor fall through?”
But my heart, it screams for mercy
“Why do this to me?
Why must it be that I cannot,
Ever seem to be free?”
Then the mind comes back again,
And in a firm voice says,
“You were free once, no twice, no thrice!
And that ended in pain.
“So see, I’m really saving you,
from your stupid self.
If you were to be given reign,
There’d be nothing keeping you
From hanging your fool self again.”
And so my heart silences,
It’s scream, no longer sounds.
But slowly it burns itself within,
To never again be found.