it's not that I'm antisocial
that I want to be alone
or friends are an intrusion
to my fragile state of mind
it's just that I'm protecting you
from the madness behind
my eyes

Held like this
A cupped hand of water
held still
that not a drop
enters gravity's pull.

Held like this
The hens egg.
Rounded palms together
without allowance of pressure
that would crush the shell.
Frail possessions.

These are days she remembers beyond all vicissitudes she faced.
Not jagged. Not stewing or careless.

This untainted moment
of protection
for something that will give back.

A drop of water
becomes a cup that was
dry as a bone.
The egg becomes
a breakfast feast
weary of starvation.

Hold life like this. Prudent,
tender and earnest.
These times she keeps
for consideration.

My inexperienced and innocent little heart
So eager to learn, have adventures
Even collect a few scars
Whatever it takes to feel alive
To feel something

Skipping a beat at the very thought
Positively nervous with anticipation
Yet enveloped by dark clouds
A constant reminder of the truth
That systematically crushes every speck of hope

Thin wire, overzealous leading to being over tired...
an over reliance on the hopes of being reinspired,
The burning thoughts; of a migraine constantly on fire.

Ten thousand shots in my head—ba, ba, ba, ba,
swimming over my depths, trying my best to breathe;
all the while in still waters choking my neck. Some live
too long...living a life of the dead.

I'm singing a song, better sounding inside—la, la, la, la,
It goes while I'm looking in the mirror, seeing myself and my
self enemy. Who's betting on their works, to seem like a better
version of themself/me?

Letting be of the many ways I try to appear calm in some days.
Hunger in my eyes; starved of the sights of true love.
But the dirtiest intentions, has my face fully covered in mud.
I give and give, but these returns are never enough.
But plenty are the voices in my head, battling constantly—blah, blah, blah, blah, as no-one else hears this cracking glass in my chest.

I figure we're all fragile figures, in the end.

Somewhere along the line, you changed.
You build walls all around you
and wore armor against the world,
You guarded your heart so well you could behave as though you didn't have one at all,
Even now, it's a shabby broken thing
but you still have it.
Not a heart of stone nor of ice,
But a fragile heart of glass
Sharpened through all its edges to stop anyone from getting in,
To stop the pain from getting out,

I understand why you wear armor,
That's why I wear it too.

which is more fragile —
the mind, or the brain?