*written in trig class, 5 long years ago…

When tender dreams,
with struggling insect wings,
burst from the plush Winter snow,
when the late night screams,
and streetlamps strain to glow,
will you be there?

When I hurt through my metamorphosis
and turn to butterfly,
and shed the colors like falling leaves
as the Autumn starts to cry,
and wet car tires drown the voices
of little kids at play,
and in the puddles, I face my choices,
and wish them all away,
will you be there?

When I raise my face to Sun’s outstretched rays,
and cut through all the feeling,
and all the shame and pain that frays
melts under Spring’s warm healing,
when something cracks,
and I let go
of the past failures and fear,
will you be there?

and when-
you stare into the mirror, and see only the things that hurt you,
and you want to shatter the glass, destroy your face,
cuz even enemies desert you,
and when
you crawl into the open field where virgin roses are blushing,
and all the wounds you’ve sewn shut, are torn open and gushing,
when all has come, and all has gone,
and none of it felt real,
and in the shadow of the setting sun,
you suddenly want to heal.
when all the rage is replaced with yearning and despair,
and all you yearn for is some silence,
and  for someone who will hear,
I will be there.
I swear,
I’ll be there.

 

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