Weak longing drive for the affirmation of my existance,
my beauty, my worth.
Brings me to places of which i dare not speak
lest the humiliation of a decade, and one more,
come pouring through my mind,
and slice through my heart,
opening wounds i care not empart.
Twisted and torn apart,
the fantacies on which i've based my heart.
Yet i n'er let them go,
lest all the lasting hope drain the empty flow,
of the sadness i hold within,
and the despair of the places i've been.
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