I cut myself again
and pay the bitter toll.
I’m desperate to feel whole;
I’m desperate for the pain.
When that familiar feeling
hits me like a wave,
I feel as though I’m saved
by the sanguine healing.
It’s curious that what breaks me
feels like remedy
while what threatens to unmake me
is a sweet melody.
For I fear pleasures unknown
far more than the pain that I call home.
If I had just one wish
to cast into the fountain
at the heart of the mountain,
I would ask for a kiss.
If I had just one chance
to have you in my life,
mayhaps as my wife,
I’d wish for romance.
But as I stand at the edge,
I’m troubled by a fear.
If it’s not your honest pledge,
will I really be your dear?
Sighingly, I choose to return
and spend that coin on love I’ve earned.
Can we redeem man
with the acres of stores
of his weapons of wars?
Do you think we can?
Can we wash out the red
that’s staining his hands
and staining his lands
and build something instead?
Can we build silver towers
with the strength of our minds?
Can we plant beds of flowers
and be gentle and kind?
I may not see the way
but I hope, and I pray.
How do I tell her
what I’m feeling inside;
what I’m trying to hide?
Honesty’s a lure
that promises a cure,
but that I’ve tried
and been denied.
Of truth I am unsure.
But if I hide my face
and run away…
if I so fear disgrace,
then why should they stay?
So I once again, with bravery,
face the consequences of my honesty.
A (wise) man of two faces 