Give me. Peace. For I am. A revolution to your creation. Chaos to your hell. I want to wear your language. To be rhapsody to your melancholy. Liberate me from the shackles of your words. Give me the ability to dance to the music of my despair. Feed me. For I crave. To be a god. A goddess?  That I may partake in the full understanding of my being. Art. To cut it out from my skin, so you can hold me to the licking flames of the fire we lit. That the teeth of certainty sink into the flesh of potential that is my world. Teach me. That I will not oppress my soul for you nor suppress the hunger within my heart. To expect the rain and anticipate the thunder. To rule my silence and roar with the stillness of my voice. Show me. How to grasp divinity and endure freedom. For the mind is a rebel and I am at war. Help me. Know what it is to be free. To learn. To believe in the laws governing the sincerity of my truth. To tear myself from battle and the whispers of death. To smile at my shadows. For mornings carry the tranquil and night beckons to the healing. Love me. Like the moon has. For it is a cold world, and my poems are yet to have a place to call home. Love me. From the ashes to the bone. Name me; so that i may be imperfect, flawed, content. Love me. To the depths of my pain. That i may hurt and live. Allow me. To be power and to be ruin. Love me. For my virtue and my sin.