It

It’s only a blank piece of paper You think. Not realising the full potential of Harm it could cause, Self deprecation, Doubt The increased inability to concentrate, What it all comes to but this one page, This blank slate, Challenge Shouting at me The expectation, This blank page challenges me, Mock, My inability to carve some words into Its purity Simple task you think, Writing thoughts into paper Yet hard enough to admit to My unconscious, Now I have to wave under the nose of scrutiny, To you, world, To take apart, Mock it, Me A number of words multiplied, Tempting me Their flawless appearance, Majestic in their loneliness, The army of my nightmares, Defeated tale of wannabe heroes Massacred Loose limbs Zombified stares, Mass of angry defeatists The secret lies here, Within your beauty, Stark ugliness, Bare simplicity, Secrets unlocking Mysteries, My composition of light You are the end to my thirst, Hunger, Loneliness, Neediness All I know is within you. Between the spaces of the letters, Your caresses of steel and thunder, Strength and power, Softness and curves, Calmness, Your rage Juxtaposition by one I trace you along the way, Memorising each one of you individually, The same, Each different in its own way Holding that missing Piece of puzzle, Refusing to separate, Not quite fitting together. Pushing and shoving to fit into a box, That box you all assume, Society’s line of best fit.