Frailty (25-03-14)

I think I'm melting—
My body foreign and estranged
A cruel god's unfinished work.

The desire to carve away at this borrowed flesh
is seen as mere impulse,
is seen as a contrast—
Passion mistaken for selfish desire.

Empathy is taken freely yet,
I wait in vain for its return
My painfully tender touch to all consumes me, yet,
I carry on.

And despite how feeble I may seem
I must reassure:
my fervent existence is the bottom line.
Even if others do not understand,
My day goes on.

But, the fear still lingers—
this decision, grand yet minute,
echoes louder than the voice I barely own.