Dreadful possession:
As if something has gripped me tight
Shaking me by the shoulders
Telling me to prove you wrong.
Urging me to whisper and shout
And crush you as I convince you-
I am not perfect
Or talented or skilled or beautiful.
I am ordinary
It kills me, but I am.
Must I tell you?

Perhaps this is the reason:
There is no time!
Soon, I will be out in the cold,
Your pedestal will offer no comfort
As it crumbles with an ancient groan.
To simply be the little that I am
Will change the way you love me.
Hand in hand,
My head buried in your long, curly hair,
Headed towards a distant twinkling light
You see fireworks;
I, a sighing, tiredly glowing match.
When I have failed,
Will you still love me?

My fault, all mine, I know
I exaggerate and embellish
The creation is ethereal,
And a hollow, desperate mirage.
I have forgotten how to put aside the pen-
And all else I use to shape it-
Allow me to destroy it,
This lonely apparition
-the eyes; familiar, tortured-
Rip it apart inch by inch and all at once,
Send it up in toxic flames
Soot and salty tears and long-gone pathetic mind.
Let me shed its brilliant deceiving cloak.

Now, amid sounds of crackling fire,            
Amid signs of an end,
Will you?
I know you will not-
You cannot forgive and look past the disaster,
Cradle the weeping form
Of a soon-forgotten, ambitious girl.
When all is done,
How can you shoulder her ordinary burden,
When you are as wonderful as she strived to be?

Please do.
Please love me, after the deluge