May all that call upon me for love...
Be sorely dissapointed at what they find
For I want to be loved for myself...
My soul and heart and mind
Those who come to feast on my heart
You will go away starving
For I am so used and battered
Looks like a horrid carving.
Sad as it is, I won't protest when you leave me.
As it is I don't really want you to stay
I am not what I am percieved to be
I'm not a pot, I'm still the clay
I have no tears to cry for boys
who decide to say cruel things
I have myself and that's all I need.
I would take a true man, not a boy among kings
It seems that this weakness that you label me with
Is more of a strength than you know
And what you choose to say to me
I find it all to be a low blow...
There is no use to chase those boys
I have no desire to catch them...
And though the world screams "hate them"
My heart sings Dona nobis Pacem...
Nymunan Community Member 
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Community Member