You

You are my muse.
To choose then use
and sometimes loose.
Confuse.
You are my muse.

You are my song.
To dawn then wrong
and sometimes spawn.
Tag along.
You are my song.

You are my flame
To tame then blame
and sometimes shame.
Refrain.
You are my flame.

You are my cry
To pry then fly
and sometimes sigh.
Shy.
You are my cry.

You are my soul
To scold and hold
and sometimes fold.
Bold.
You are my soul.

You are this poem.
These words upon this page
no match to any of the things you ever say
ever will say, none of them are you.
You.
You are you're own.
My own.
You are beauty, what the world
intended eyes as sad, as rotten and decayed
with no reason to see as mine. With no passion
to ignite and no love to sought out. You are the reason
these eyes still glow. Still see and watch and know
that this is, in all it's awful glory, a life.
One i hate, resent and despise, you are the reason
I live within it's walls and boundaries each day
for you. For your reason and your passion.

You.
You and only you.