Dearest Emily,
Did you have the right idea,
To hide yourself away
(Coddled by darkness)
Safe from the light of day?
Art is such a painful thing to love.
When you can be unloved by millions,
And only one heart do you touch.

With every stroke, step, and word
Within you grows a crack.
Showing a sliver of what is inside.
Bravely, you send it out to the world
And can never take it back.

Respect, Acceptance
You will it to be true,
But there will always be those
That leer and snicker at that part of you.

Why bother to show it to the world?
Why not lock it up under your bed?
Because then you will never discover
The joy in your readers' eyes.
The best part of you
Would be dead.