Your life is yours to live,
Your story, yours to tell.
A body you alone inhabit,
Others claim to know so well.
Hold them tight, love them hard.
Cherish their touch.
But it’s never enough,
Or it’s always too much.
So here you lie,
Burning with passion for no one at all.
Searching for answers in the stars,
Drawing closer and hoping to fall.
But I beg and plead for you from here.
With rough waxy hands to mend your wings.
I want so badly for you to understand that they ran,
Because people tend to fear beautiful things.