• Take the self and create something beautiful.
    This poem is you, and is no less wonderful.
    It was born from hate, from love, and from fear
    And rode onto the page on the wings of a tear.

    When your heart was warm, but the world was cold,
    And nowhere to be seen was a hand you could hold,
    You bowed your head and cried out to the night,
    And this poem was born, and rose up in mid-flight.