This is not my poem. I did not write it, but it is what I feel nearly every time...
I got it from HERE
now Iím a tiny bird
cold and quivering in your hands.
now Iím a small boy
lost in a department store thatís about to close.
seconds ago I was a lion in your bed
a storm blowing out your walls
jupiter crashing into venus
the climax of an opera
now Iím a little lost traveler
hiding in a land of giants
you could kill me with the flick of a finger
or a harsh word.
I need your protection in this moment
when Iím so open
because this is when the phantoms come
this is when
the black wordless void where I was taken as a child
returns to claim me again
opening its dark mouth under my feet
pulling me down into its throat
sending me back in time to myself
showing me how small and alone I was
when it happened.
please donít abandon me now
be with me
breathe with me
just give me a few minutes
and Iíll be the man you know again.