This crutch that I lean on is mine alone,
If there is a great flood it is my stone.
It provides reliable support when I need,
Something to clot my wounds when I bleed.
With it I can hold my head high proudly,
Knowing it shall end safely and soundly.
On the eve of great storms it spawns hope,
Even as I hurtle over treacherous slopes.
You have one too but it differs from mine,
Whether its power, lust or love so divine.
In sharing I am now showing you my crutch,
An example of my emotion reshaped as such.
For the more I share, the more I require,
Yet of this beautiful crutch I do not tire.