do heathens and heaven ever meet at juxtaposed crossroads ?
should his horns cut me like this ? passionately, like a feign .
causing my heart to race & pace - as they run across my wrists .
oppressed by his lies, they suppress my revolutionary fists .
ripped from the girl i used to be, introduced to the new me .
but the latter classic still puts in work;
slaving over this barren land we call 'us' . pulling heavy bricks & sinking sand .
mixing the cement like a savage that's hidden within me .
trying to guard myself before you set it FREE.
my wings are pierced and now i bleed you .
i cant fly alone now;
i hate how we're here, but love how you need me -
two handicapped doves that want to fly free ...
you became the air that pushes my arms up & away,
but the same gust that weakened me & led me astray .
- written my senior year of high school . my first sign that writing was made for me .