Letter to a Young Tortured Soul


United States
29° 42' 17.9316" N, 98° 4' 6.0348" W

When we met you said you were dangerous,
A word like licking knife blades, razor sharp;
Dancing in silk slippers on an icy-slick roof-edge.
You said it to sound dark and brooding,
A walk on the wrong side of the tracks.

But I think what you really wanted,
Was to be thought a broken bird,
Songless and sinking in sorrow’s sea
You wanted someone to care for you,
And worship at your cathedral of pain.

I wonder what you would do
If I looked directly at you
And told you that--
Oh, you innocent child! --
You are not dangerous, or
Even broken.
You are lonely.


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