I often feel like

that mentioned “struggle”

It seems for every smiling turn

there’s a storm through which I huddle

I look for you through the flying darts

I know I seem like a frightened child

I really wish I could take my edges

make them less sharp

my acid more mild.



I don’t know how you do it

I need your arms like a wrapping blanket

I hope to offer the same to you

port in a storm

shelter like an embankment


because relief is often temporary

but the source is forever