Scratch that scathing thought
setting its crimson tips upon the skin of my hope
Wipe that away
the longing for something more than what I shall receive
A faith that someday my heart will fly free
its butterfly wings setting itself upon the tiger lily
A glancing tear drop balanced on the petal
begging to be let go, to drop to the trembling ground
A glass heart that begs to be shattered
if only to save itself the pain of not being able to hold
The floor is cold beneath my bare feet
and I relish in the pain, knowing it distracts me from the true suffering
Scratch that sighing thought as it sets itself inside my hope
tear at it as you will, though it does not seem to let go
Burn away that silent hope that burns in my chest
and that decadent thought still remains:
