You are the book:
I've tried so hard to open,
though my fingers kept slipping
on your beautiful cover.

You are the poem:
I've tried so hard to write,
though every time I got too close
I gave up on imperfections.

You are the song:
That's played along in silence
through every phase of my life,
I heard it loud and clear.

You are the book, the poem, the song,
The one purpose for my chest
to rise and fall.

You are the book:
I turned pages in earnest,
A desire to read, to know,
To love every word.… Continue

My vocal chords have been
Tied and gagged for years,
At any cost, to keep the peace
Though muting truth and fears.

Those tyrannous lies kept
My tongue with guard of gun
Prodding it each time I wept
In regret for deceit spun.

And there you sat, open eyed
With your honest heart displayed
Pleading for the truth, and I,
For my conscious ardently prayed.

Voice wavering, ropes severed
The truth escaped and freedom found
And all peace for which I'd endeavored
In bravery, was mine abound.

When first you held me
All was clear.
The air was still
And hope was near.

Though my eyes
Were dry throughout,
My stuttering heart
Was not without -

A boost of some
Chemical strange
Some kind of comfort
That you gave.

The world was gone.
Scars disappeared,
And all there was
Was lying here.

With pepper in her lungs
Work hard, play hard
Die young, leave a good looking corpse
The streets wreaked of
the death of dignity and hope
Or perhaps of urine and rotten bacon
Maybe the security blanket
was really just the lack of one
Anger and distaste; a common
and cheap fuel