Beloved

Say it, confess it, let me love you.

I would hold you, hold you,

unlikely as it seems.

Tell me everything -- 

let it up, let it out,

who am I to sneer?

You don't have to cry.

That's you, isn't it, 

unwilling to wail,

not about to give it up.

Others do that (we won't judge them)

but why not laugh?

It's the much same release.

You are a bad one, a bad one, a bad one.

Acknowledge it. Claim it.

There's a howl inside you --

not a protest, really,

this is you!  This is innocence.

The bad seed knows itself,

recognizes its lineage.

You will be comforted.

You are loved.