Please, let me stay gentle,
do not force me to cry –
raging into battle in a voice that isn’t mine.
Folding into a wooden mask,
day beyond day,
you never would guess that I am afraid.
Head down through the blizzard,
I march as I must,
fighting envy and heartbreak, reduced to mere lust.
Please, let me stay gentle,
or at last you will see,
my face for the world is not really me.
One day it will splinter,
and all that remains,
is a pair of dead eyes, carved by years of pain.
I don’t think I’m made
for this harsh, noisy world,
but my quiet pleas for silence have long gone unheard.
Please, let me stay gentle,
let me sing with the birds,
my voice in its softness at last would be heard.
With the peace of kindness,
we could move through our lives,
if only we all were a little more wise.
I’m not made for fighting,
for the pressure and hate,
just forced into the conflict by some perverse fate.
Please, let me stay gentle,
you’ve said that you care,
yet the blizzards continue, and I am still there.
It’s crushing my core,
having to every day be,
someone so completely unlike me.
Please, listen to me,
no more bathing in blood.
Please, let me stay gentle,
then I’ll know that I’m loved.