tender

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.)