I cannot touch the beautiful things for I make them fall apart
Smiles grow as black as the neglect around my heart
Flowers catch on fire; birds fly straight at the sun
Children burst out crying dogs turn around and run
A beckon call is ringing but I cannot seem to find
Anything resembling Alex Graham Bell’s great design
Bursting with confusion pulling masks over my face,
Gloves over my hands, and pants over my legs
I leave my chest exposed and begin to make my way
Around the Earth to find some snugness in a beast who wants to play
A beast who’s blind to ugliness and resistant to the rush
Of cancer painfully trickling from hands that yearn to touch
A beast who sings a song that could soothe the sickening ring
A beast who remedies everything that’s wrong with me

I need a beautiful beast
Who will not fall apart
A woman who can vindicate
A poet’s savage heart

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