I'm honoured to be your friend Dana, truly honoured, I mean that, I'm not lying, or false, or joking. Through someone else's eyes... A speckled, chartreuse butterfly sits on my window ledge. As I watch, it turns away, taking flight. Why don't we exist in a place where she is my friend? Where we talk with one another, rather than live alone in each sight. While opening a fairytale, I glance along syllables blue and black, Losing my soul for pages of love, and flawless landscapes. I would prefer if a novella could hold me in it's arms, Soothe me with caressing words, rock me into a tragic dreamscape. I have friends who can't glide across canyoned, emerald waters, Parents who cannot truly live on that faraway, golden star. I feel my pain inside - trapped, cold and aloof; Rather than watching it melt into ice-spirals and operatic bars. I make do with a precious sphere of kindness, Helping enemies when I can, easing perdition in the weak, Caring equally for soldiers of virtue and virulence, Yet never hoping to glimpse the honest fulfilment that I seek. So many worlds exist on my wounded and reverent horizon, That I feel serene at the terrible nightmares I walk through. As the magic and morose road leads to the stars, There I'll be someday, only as myself - so scarred, and so blue.