I've never been privileged
In keeping company
To call my own.
Minus the few
That have proven much loyalty,
In the years I've walked among
the realm of the living,
I've always felt the overwhelming
and dreadful sense of segregation,
Watching my own life progress
As a mere bystander.
In my experience,
People have been
the least desirable companions,
As they are fickle,
and self-absorbed.
I have watched them,
Like vultures,
Descend upon
My still-beating heart,
and every fraction of my mind,
and devour
What morsels may be left over
From the last time
That the scavengers
Picked apart
the corpse of my being,
Dead at the hands
Of a human predator
That inflicted upon me
A fresh wound
From which I bled
Til' I could bleed no more.

I've never felt privileged
Until I met you,
Who chased away the vultures,
and tended to my wounds.
You brought to me
A small amount of hope
That has made
This nihilistic and cynical shell
Feel full once more.
Your child-like wonder
and immeasurable joy
Are oddly contrasted
By your motherly comfort
and in some cases
Dire seriousness.
Such genuineness is too rare,
and although sad that fact may be,
I savor much more
That it is a rare gift indeed,
For without it's scarceness,
The coal would be indistinguishable
From the diamonds,
and you shine the most radiant, by far,
Illuminating my otherwise dark outlook
upon the world,
and recoloring the pages
of my life
That once were so dull,
Either from hurt or disinterest
From everyone around me,
Changing the hues
Bright and vibrant
and rewriting on those same pages
A more joyous sequel
To a depressing
and painful history.

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