When tender dreams,
with struggling insect wings
burst from the plush Winter snow
when late nights' screams
and streetlamps strain to glow,
will you be there?

When I hurt through my metamorphosis
and turn to butterfly
and shed the colors like falling leaves
as the Autumn starts to cry,
and wet car tires drown the voices
of little kids at play
and in the puddles I face my choices
and wish them all away,
will you be there?

When I raise my face to Sun's outstretched rays
and cut through all the feeling,
and all the shame and pain that frays
melts under Spring's warm healing,
when something cracks,
and I let go
of little girl's dreams and fear,
will you be there?

and when
you stare into the mirror and all you see are things that hurt you,
and you want to shatter the glass, destroy your face,
cuz even enemies desert you,
and when
you crawl into the open field where virgin roses are blushing,
and all the wounds you've shut, are torn open and gushing,
when all has come and all has gone,
and none of it felt real,
and in the shadow of the setting sun,
you suddenly want to heal.
when all the rage is replaced with yearning and despair
and all you yearn for is some silence,
and someone who will hear,
I will be there.
I swear,
I'll be there.