your words pound at this armor
gently built by tender thoughtful hands
but by the years those hands turned rough
and this armor once hardened by metal
has become fragile like paper
paper thrown into the fire
and this fire burns through.
this armor was second skin
but now everything is full center
and for every war and battle scar
a kind word or thought could've stopped bloodshed.
for every raven, there were 2 doves.
one watching over me, and the other telling me to follow them to another path.
(i look because sometimes i want to be everything you want, i never once realized that maybe your not the everything i needed.)