misstree thoughts of innocence to achieve
churn my stomach, cause recoil
from parts of me that
don't explain themselves.
Hope is regrded bleary-eyed,
resigned, bitterly almost-curious.

There is always light and dark.
But the balance they seek...
one has overshadowed,
strngling vines too thorny to trim.

I feel the need for a being of light
near me, reminding me,
singing a song that will bring me awake.

But the way that my being is composed,
nearly all such entities are either
repelled by the darkness I relish
or quickly dismissed as easy prey, unworthy.

I need the presence of a balanced soul
to forge deep into thorns
and shine.
what's it to you?
who go