If we held hands in the dark and blossomed
like cordial sunshine that never greeted winter,
you'd say you were dating damaged goods -
playing the knight while I chose to neglect
humanity and become engaged to my
delusions. Call me a masochist, go ahead
but can't you see that I'm fighting? My fists
are in the air and you better believe I know
when to give up or not give in.
This will not be engrossing; it will not be
an inspiring process. It will simply take time,
until the mechanisms I decide to live by
won't sink into my insubordinate skin.
