running around without a care for the world
like the body is eternal and the soul is long sold.
walking professionally on the cryptic eggshells
like you have a map to the place where peace dwells.
quick to lash out and burn, keeping a smear near
always having a compliment in stores: You look well, my dear!
like a rose with the softest petals that shy away from the touch
but with the sharpest thorns that protect from those who want too much.
like the first rays of sunshine after the coldest and darkest night,
everyone basks in your warmth but cannot shake the instinctual fright.
like the rebels from the ancient myths who commanded affection
you are the hero that potentially exists in every reflection.