Ark of the Lost Angels

Wounded _{(Credit: Minjuart on DeviantArt)}

Everyone wants passion,
Until pain bleeds through.
Loud, frustrated snapping.
In an instant, you become a monster.
The ones who desired you so now recoil in fear. 

Your anger is unpalatable,
They look at you as though you will lay a hand on them,
Even though the thought makes you shatter,
Cracks the foundation of your very heart,
You are still a threat at all times to the ones you wish to protect.

A voice louder than a whisper triggers terror,
So wounds must bleed where no blood is seen,
You retreat. 
Kill the parts of yourself that feel,
And suppress your soul.

Screams for help cannot escape,
The restraints must not slip even slightly,
You bind your heart so tightly,
And hate the denizen of the mirror,
Seeing their worst fears as the only thing you are. 

Knowing no matter how hard you love,
Your capacity for harm will outshine all else.
Disappointment in self turns to hatred,
Lost in the fury so unable to be seen
That you pay penance for crimes you never committed. 

I begged and pleaded for love that wasn’t mine.
Silently praying someone else would mold to me,
So desperate to fit together,
So willing to strip away myself,
So dedicated to loving the wrong people. 

It was only after despondency 
That gentle hands lifted the muzzle from me.
The wounds where its spikes and prongs dug into me
Were tended to with patience and tender care. 
To be seen was so alien after being a monster for so long.