Conversation

"What do You want?!" I defensively shout in the caverns of my mind.
"Your problems" You dryly reply
"Well I don't want them" I roll my eyes with spite.
"Take them" I mumble as I limply hold then out.
"With pleasure" You respond as you reach your hand out.
But then just as Your fingers start to touch, mine go ridged as I grasp on to that which I so desperately want to let go. Anger, Pain, My plans, My way. I know I don't really want it...and yet...
Your hand waits patiently for mine to give. I cannot look You in the eye and yet with a defiant anger I grasp on to that which is not mine. It was never mine to start with, I am Yours.
I see Your other hand start to move - I instinctively cringe, waiting for the blow.
But no instead it gently moves, and wraps me in its strength and warmth that seems to glow.
Patiently You hold me close and wait. You Listen to me cry and in time I slowly release my grip.
This journey is far from done, and this battle is just the tip.
But day by day I have this hope
You will never leave me and will always help me cope.