Suffer me, for it is all I know
But understand that I too
Will suffer all that you are
In the way that the unclean
Suffer the Rain.
Where others see only misery,
I see hope that the shade of grey
Is known to others for its glory.
Purge from you the concept of perfection
So I am not alone in admiring
The beauty of the broken.
Stand with me in respect of
The blemishes and bruises
That mark us as alive—
Even through the days
We feel the furthest from it.
We are creatures of the night
Beasts born to feed on desperation
So that it may serve a greater purpose
Then to ruin.
Suffer me, for it is all I know
And I will thank you for it.
About the Creator
Obsidian Words
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