In your dreams, between the seams
I bet you see the happy that you want to be
Feasting and famine might be your consorts
And to them you’ll resort, ensuing the screams
Bruised heart and wrist is your woeful twist
The cuts seeping secrets that miserably persist

They would demand, how can you stand
Every lie, every tear, every sordid offhand
Parents and family and even your friends
Will see you to your end, but still reprimand
Themselves for not seeing it--not stopping it at least
Because they left you alone to fight your own beasts

But hope is still here, if you live out your years
Believe it, I entreat you, because I share your fears
Starving for anything, but mostly for love
I hope it comes soon enough, the finest sincere
You’ll be pleased to find it in the obscurest places
And so happiness will find you in the littlest of ways