Others would use cold or brutal.

But so much more than that,

Is this person who she sees.

She says I will die,

I think she might be right.

But not from a physical wound.

Rather from a wound of the heart.

I know I can live like I wish but,

Who am I to decide what I do,

There are so many more who do so for me.

I am lost, I am alone, I am me.

No one to hold and none to listen.

Not even her,

the little life of my caring and protection.

Why am I to live with the pain of other's ignorance.

How do I care for one when I can barly care for myself?

Myself, the proud one who is me.

It shall never show on to the world.

I can wear a mask forever,

but what help will come of it,

When I cannot even hide it from myself.

It, that is my lack of what makes all live.

But no!

I will be me,

And be proud of who that me is.

I am me.

I am not alone,

I am together.

I am not lost,

I am mearly finding my way out.

And I can live with me.

I will find a way to make her love me.

She is my life, my love.