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If my dreams were as strong and as thoughtful as you, then I wouldn’t really need you.
The tide wavers like my heart but your firm grip over me should keep me as stable as the mountains which you oppose upon.
My eyes are blind to see the treacherous painful path in front of me or the calm path beside me.
Your hands make like a mask over my pale face and guide me through the life which I am yet to lead.
This hair of mine binds me and tangles me as I walk.
And with your stealth like fingers you snip away my imperfections.
My legs fail me at times like these and cripple beneath gravity’s foul breath.
So I have you to lift me upon your back and carry me through.
My tears become poison that in turn rots away at my skin and flesh.
It poisons my food and makes a mess of what you have fixed.
Yet you stay beside me and care for all that is left of me.
Tending to the wounds and baking me things that could cure hunger through smell.
I reach towards the sky, and tell myself, “I’ll get there on my own someday,”
Yet you cloud over my sunlight and reply, “If only I would let you.”