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.

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.