The Gift

A poem on desperation.

Photo by Mohamed Nohassi on Unsplash

Where did you find this passion in life to carry you?
Oh, won’t you spare me some kind soul?

I promise to keep it sacred and nourish it with moments of joy.
I’ll run to the wild, against the wind, jumping through foolish obstacles to guard your precious gift.

In mythical sceneries, like a goddess, I will lay.
Sparing some demigods my humor
while I watch you, kind soul, moving around mysteriously, oozing with life.

I wish to open my flesh and pour out emotion and rebellion, as you do.
I want to shed all fabric off my skin and jump to the streets,
An unholy sight for all to see,
I’ll be.

I am me, you are you, but we’re not we.