Oh warm clasping hands of comfort
Holding me clos under your wings
Shielding me from elements I’d readily confront
Free me from your grasp and let me be
Haven’t I fought and won my battles before
Albeit with the discomfort of having my knuckles bruised
Then, I needed you not and neither do I now
Flee from me you cannot contain my stirred spirit
What could you do for me that I couldn’t do for myself?
Except turn me into a slob for a few hours of thy comfort
I scoff at your comfort; I’ll not fall for your wiles
Haven’t you checked, are you blind, cant you see I write my own script!
I seek not thy comfort
Let me eat the coals in the end I’ll make diamonds
Let the harsh elements rub against me
And smoothen up my rough edges
And when it’s all done
I’ll create my own comfort
Farthest from your hands
But now, away! Thy comfort I do not need
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