Tkae thy frail finger to my hand

Take thy frail finger to my hand… I shall pull you from this fallen land. With no one to do so for me. Lost and bathed in my own tears. Alone and crying… I feel the fear… I live the pain… but as always I am dying. With every hurt… every tear. I grow stronger. A word to fate… persecute me, hurt me, bring me countless endowments of pain and I shall only strive. This scar upon my wrist give proof of my former stupidity. This weak heart of mine that still beats… and still loves is proof of my strength. The chastising lies… the ones to make another better and me less. Grant me nothing with them for what I want is true. Dissipate reality for yourself let me keep mine. For if it is not real then in my heart it shall never heal and form as me. Bring my destruction and upon my last breath I shall only utter of love. This which keeps me sain… this which keeps me alive this hope I hold so close not the let its ray of light glimmer to another. This no one, no being, no entity not even fate shall take from me. This which I lived for four years not admitting… this which I have always had. But alas I have only my definition. If I took the one I have been shown I shall cry… for all I have been taught is love is pain. Its the deceit which one so villainously creates to capture me… then left for dead am I. But I have never died. I have never fell nor will I. With every word that consists of love I shudder… tears swell in my eyes. For every time I have been told I was loved hurt followed. You ask me not to fear this but: If I child is to be unloved by a mother how is another to love that child? Question your answer… for I have the pain, I know the pain, I live with the pain. “If knowledge is power I am weak but alas I grow stronger” Measure my strength now… and find my weakness… and as always you shall see it is my compassion, trust, and love. The ideals I hold most valued are my weakness. Spare me the pain you shall bring me for another will soon and here after. It is my fate to hurt… and I do not question God and its ways… for it shall only do unto me when it knows I can handle it; if I lose faith then I do so upon my own will. Pleasure and penitence. Rage blossoming, my identity forgotten. The abyss is reborn, a new tear in my mind is revealed. My pale flesh stinging and serrated… for this is my emotional shelter where I hide… where I heal. A justification… is what I need. A justification as to why one would say they had my body. For them to lie about me blessing them with my body… as conceded as you say it is of me… I do think it is a blessing for few have I gave it to and few shall I ever. For me to let my flesh to become with them for me to give all of myself to them. To let my lips taste theirs. Not until my heart is cultivated with love. And lust droughted… the heavens terefarmed in my hands… with these hands I do hold the endower of my love. But till that fated day when one can look at me with true and loving eyes I shall wait.