Defense

I used to think
I was lost.
Lately I've realized, I'm
only taking a new direction.

Flame and fang cannot pierce
the shell I have made
to hide myself
from shame, at this point.

Broken, shattered pieces of
a once understanding heart
are crumbling themselves now,
just like my defenses used to.

Warm hands search for
my hips, opposite sides.
Because now this is my only guard
my last chance to hide.

What was that saying?
"Cold hands,
Warm heart"?
The irony delves into me.

Bittersweet loneliness I had
wished for, and strove for.
Perhaps if they cared
they would've told me I was reckless.

Because I see too clearly now,
despite the darkness of my thoughts.
I only wanted to protect
what had been forgotten by the world.

My eyesight dims as I lie
on the cold, unforgiving ground.
A hand is stretched out, towards
nothing, a silent cry on my chaste lips.

There's no joy here
in the twisted wonderland of my own fate.
Only realization when it's too late,
because you think clearly when alone.