I would love you as if you were my own, My own to love, and my own to mourn, I would card my fingers through the tidal curls, And sweep past all the dirt crumbs you had, Because you rolled in damp swamp grass.
I would protect you, from anyone else who dare harm you, Even if you are a fighter and I, a writer, You seem to need me so I will guide you so, Little soldier, you should've stayed a child for a little while longer, It was not your time to see piercing spears and impaling blades on a blood strewn battlefield, Young minds are not meant to don old armor, But why, oh why in my naivete did I lead you here?
Please don't follow me, not anymore, I have no trust in myself to hold your guiding torch, I might burn you with a single blind swing, Just as I had all that long ago when I singed my own wings, I have a lot to say, but too little courage to tell; Apologies are on the tip of my tongue, but they can't seem to spill.
Little child I love like my own, If you were to forgive the one who raised you, Would they not hurt you anymore?
I will give you every reason I could think of, so you would let go, I'm afraid if you stay by my side for longer than you need to, I'd harm you just like all those years ago, I never lay a hand against you, but I broke that porcelain pedestal, And the shards of porcelain left bleeding cuts I could not mend.
I'm sorry, my dear, I wish you the best.