I open this blasphemous book every day, 

I sit here writhing, writing with my pen, 

My careless clumsy hands cannot keep up, 

So I lose my brilliant, broken mind again. 

I stumble through my twisted thoughts,

Watch my inked fingers turn to claws,

A beautiful mind it just might be, 

Its musings the agonist of my fall, 

Wondering am I too much or not quite enough, 

My egregious ego and it’s unanswered questions, 

Driven myself and the devil slightly mad, 

Always on guard always second guessing,

My reflection doesn’t match my face, 

Historically hearts have never been sure,

To trust myself in the hands of another then,

Discarded, ripped open, left wanting more,

Build those toppled walls right up again,

Protect my heart a little longer,

I swear patience isn’t wasted time, 

I promise this time I’ll be stronger.