Once upon a time ago, a five-year-old boy asked me for his hand.

I accepted not knowing what it’s all about,

nor the toil at hand.

A quarter of a century later, that boy, still five-years-old,

yearns for attention,

searches to find love that only he can give himself.

What are you willing to give up?

All you got is hurt.

Running out of excuses for the entangled.

You broke me.

Then you woke me.

It shouldn’t be so threatening,

to find love.

It shouldn’t be so painless,

to find defeat.

You haven’t the strength,

to level with me,

I’ve done so always speaking my truth.

It’s your turn to deliver.