I know how they will try and talk us down from this ledge
how they will congregate on the sidewalk below
their hands over their mouths in mock surprise and fear
the well intenders
singing the praise of our worth
and tell us how fucking lovable we are.
But you and I know there are parts that... dare I say it to you...
only God could love.
There are parts that would make the crowd disperse from the sidewalk
having just painted a big red target in their wake
parts of us so dark
not even mold would thrive.
Yes. The best of intentions are in need of redemptions. We never intend to be the error, the virus, the villan. Sometimes we are. And we forgive each other. We leave those doors open. We throw open the window and keep watch for all that returns from what we've sent. . . .