Modern Romanticism

Fortify what you've
been able to amplify
when you're breathing
words you don't recall,
while this is all
to keep you moving.

I write your name
on scars, those you
hate yourself for baring
for me, to see
how you ever instill
your hardwired demeanor
for other eyes,
using further lies
as your disguise.

But I do see
how you tremble
within a void
you call your light,
blending in, too well,
with the dust
that comes back
to cover your tracks.

If you could see
the real you, lost inside
a puddle from the rain
you've brought down
from your heart,
it can be enough to be
all you deny yourself
the chance to be.

You can see
the words you distort
to provide echoes
for all other's hearing.

You can correct
the deceit you believe,
into being the truth
you will conceive.