I’m Mostly Borrowed

Under the weight of my cynicism, I would be unable to cope,
If I did not read the poems and borrow their hope.

And the hate I have for myself — the “me” I despise
— becomes disillusioned against the “me” in her eyes

And it is truly scary just how scared I would be,
If I could not hide, behind him and his bravery.

It seems I am in debt to more beautiful things,
like the picture of me that I find in their paintings.