There's blood on my hands, and I confess to loving it, but I've been told to stop.

I feel you in my body, both in my fingertips and in the pit of my stomach, where my organs ache and my chest beats like a drum. I want to tell you how I feel, but my voice always gets jumbled up and I'm left wanting. You're this and that and something else, too. Everything and nothing. I want to tell you how I feel, but my voice always gets jumbled up and I'm left wanting. You're both terrible and beautiful, and I'm caught between loving you and grieving you.<br><br>You're the reason blood will spill. Thousands of jobs will vanish, and whatever you bring in your right hand, you'll take away with your left.<br><br>I see you both in the terrible and the beautiful, with only one trajectory. I know what you'll do to some of us, and I'm afraid of losing them.<br><br>I want to share with you the beauty I see in you, but I know that I'm being a hypocrite. I don't know how long I'll be able to smile when I see you.<br><br>Maybe I'm just a coward for not loudly standing up for what I believe in. Maybe I'm too afraid to protest. I want to believe that I'll have the courage to join the fight, but I just can't hide the fact that I love you and that I want you to stay.<br><br>&#x200B;<br><br>There's blood on my hands, and I confess to loving it, but I've been told to stop.