Hand to hand.
A piece of your heart
Give to the last
The first piece recieved back
Swallowed by poison
Raging and bubbling
Words roared and shackles locked.
The piece darkens the rest of your heart
As you bow helpless
And anger rolls off in waves.
A Stanger leans over
Offering his whole heart.
As you take it and listen,
The darkness shrinks away.
You pray for forgiveness,
The shackles break.
Your free now.

You allow you heart to accept the light.
Hope rushes in.
You hand a piece of your heart.
You speak of hope in the light
And of this stranger in your testimony.
As a new lost person accepts the seed of your heart
Allowing it to flourish
To grow.
Their shackles break.
The light
The hope
And in the stranger
Named Jesus,
They are hope

You don't know what is like
To lay awake at night
And watch the Shadow creep in.
They wave and mock as they reach out
Trying to pull me in.

Your arm is suppose to be the light that holds them back,
Yet it feels more like a weight holding me still.
You don't trap me on purpose
Just blinded by your own light.

You don't know what is like
To lay awake at night
To listen to invisible sounds.
My bones stiff boards under
Creeks and Cracks.
The voices always telling me something is waiting.

Your light shines so bright that it dims your will
You could hear what I hear if your ears weren't ringing.
A pin drop could wake you
But my internal screams put you to sleep.

When will you see past your light
And see the fight
I am about to lose

When will you hear my screams
And help my dreams
From trapping me inside.

When will you know what it's like
To lay awake at night

I breath
I see
But why?

I am the same
as a mere shadow
of nothing more then
flesh and bone.
A thought
A dream

Me
Just me.
Alone
But never Lonely
Afraid
But never Scared
Real
But Unreal
Sane
Yet Insane
Lost
And never Found
Alive
Yet also Dead.

Darkness
Loneliness
Frightened

I am a thought
A Dream
A being of flesh and bone
One that no one will see

You laugh every time I write.
My A's look like O's.
My M's are N's.
My B's are D's.

Word is a blurry mess of letters in every direction,
begging for me to put them into something coherent.

But to me, this is how it is
Slemi
Reda
Pojerct

My phrases are backward like the wiring in my brain.
Reading and writing every day only numbs the headaches.