What The Right One Can Do

I am protective.

I run into crimson blood battles,

And cloud rimmed frays,

For the right person.

I climb towers of insecurities,

And bravely dive into uncertainty,

Rage, my gravity,


For the right person.

And when the smoke fades out,

And gunshot barrels lay abandoned

As my open wounds pulse,

I feel no remorse, nor anguish,

Not for those who I deem deserving.

You messed with the wrong one.

You corroded and cut away

At hands so momentous,

They could mold beauty from shame

And smother tears into warmth and perseverance.

With just a mere word,

They could force a current,

Rewrite a mindset.

Change lives.

Their actions sent me trembling

Like earthquakes in my chest cavity,

My breath,

Shaking in the wake of their graceful smiles.

And I stand before them,

Beside them,

As they have shown me.

This world can only be filled

With as much cruelty,

As you allow to drown you in the tide

That inevitably comes for you.

This life and their eyes

Are the same.

Not only in their ability to continue on

But in their light that always seem to reappear

At the darkest moments.

And for that,

For the layers of encouragement

And encompassing of pride,

For every kiss and embrace,

Laced with the words:

“You are loved.”,

I must say,

You messed

with the wrong



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