Loving BPD.
You’re consumed with the bad,
when there’s so much good inside.
A lost little boy,
frantic for a place to hide.
A sea of unfamiliar faces-
they threaten at your knees.
Your breath may quicken, but you won’t fall;
you’re stronger than you think.
My perfect broken angel.
So delicate, so sweet.
But in a moments time,
so angry and so bleak.
You want to hold my hand,
to feel you’re not alone.
But your fingers are a trap.
You disguise them as a home.
I tell myself, “It’s not his fault,”
the doctors tell me too.
But how can I be so in love
with a shell of what is you?
I want to scream and fight,
let frustration have its ugly view.
But how can I hurt an angel?
One who’s already so blue.
So I bow my head and brave the storm.
I tell myself, “Just for one more night.
Hold on, for the good inside of him.
Lead him to the light.”