My game is porous. My eyes are wanting. My heart is of licorice. My words are meaningful. My action is non-existant. I'm lonely. I'm dull. I'm chipped. I'm battered. Broken and bruised. Tired and weary. Dreadful and in pain. Longing for you. Longing for your compassion. Longing. Just longing. How I want you. How I want to be with you now. How I want to live for you.

Afraid to fall. Afraid to fall into your arms and never want to leave. Afraid to drown in your precious eyes.

I'm not the one carrying a box of nails. I'm not the one slinging guns, pretending to be the Prince of Wales. I'm not the one you took me for. I'm not the one I thought I could be. I'm the sailor, drowning out at sea. I'm the merchant, selling words and bundles of lies. Trapped inside a jar of flies. Like an animal, caged. Through the bars you reach me, yet I'm too afraid to go near you. Too afraid to hurt you. Too afraid to get hurt. Too afraid.