Come Back

Some people ask where you come from.

But I know your twisted ways.

You reach down into the dark, filthy souls of the inflicted

and bring their thoughts out into the dim light,

Only concealing them with delicate words and buried meanings.

You make the rules tough, don’t you?

You ask for my deepest fears, my loneliest days, the broken pieces of my taped up heart.

You make my scrapes and burns come back to life,

Making them as vivid as if I’m enduring them once again.

But even then, I let you, because you’re the only one that understands me in my shattered state.

Yet, when I don’t want you anymore, I throw you away.

I don’t look for you or call for you, but you somehow always have a way of finding me,

never minding how I treated you, never minding that I kept you away.

Because the truth is, reaching for you from the inside is not as easy as

reaching for you from the outside.

After all, you do make me as cold as those days with colorless skies,

as warm as the scorching days in the Sahara desert.

You break me to heal me.  

You have no reason, you have no sanity.

But that is why I need you,

even if I don’t want you.