These words are a slow, languid melody
that hums its way free of my heart.
These words are a thin, fragile part of me
that cowers and quails from the start.
Each line is a hard, sharpened rapier
with power to play, cut, or kill.
Each line is a glimpse at the shape I wear,
though part of me hides from you still.

These letters are clues to the mystery
of all that is hidden within.
These letters are windows that help you see
the center at which I begin.
Each syllable adds to a running count
of holes in the walls 'round my soul.
Each syllable means, as the numbers mount,
that more can escape my control.

These words are the cracks in my stone facade
through which glows the soft, golden light
Of a heart that will bleed at the slightest prod
but loves with invincible might.