Please love me, for whom I am,

crumpled though I be.

Perhaps a wing is bent

or my mind goaled

within a body,

that will never be controlled.

Perhaps I cannot tell you,

in words you understand,

how much I love you.

You are all to me.

Yet all I seek or want –

from life is knowing that

you will love me too.

Crumpled though I am.

David Garlick, Victoria, April, 1991
For those who cannot say it for themselves.