There's nothing that will drain strength from a heart as a lack in faith.

There's nothing that can drain faith from a heart like monster disguised as a human to a child.

There's nothing I'm shocked to see, miracles included...

My truth is I'm drowning in seas of mistakes
as the waves of pressure crash over me.

The truth is I've allowed fear to enter the dark
corners of my mind. I told him he may only stay
for a little while... I promise!

But now I'm to afraid to let this fear escape.

The truth is I'm scared... terrified to let you in
because my tainted thoughts poison pure minds.

My truth is anxiety and depression devour my soul
as darkness moves from one corner to the other...
leaving trails of suicidal sticky notes.

Some say: Remember when she said,
"You're just another fat helpless victim of society."
Or when he said,
"You're worthless we rather you dead!"

The truth is the world sees me as the frail twig.
Not the sturdy tree!

Dear mom
I am not yet born hear me
please dont let the scrounging snakes
or scoundrels near me.

I am not yet born but provide me
with growing grass, talking trees, a blue
bird to sing and the North Star to guide me.

I am not yet born but forgive me
for my thoughts when they write
the words I speak. For my life I have life
yet Im not living. For my death... On that
day it shall be our last shared breathe.

Momma just know Im sorry!

Dear mom
I am not yet born please provide me
with power against those who halt my
humanity, make me a machine's mechanism,
and suffocate my soul. For I am the lively
liquid held in hands... so please let them not
spill me otherwise just... **** me.

Momma always compares me to the trees
She says... I'm tall, thin, and free spirited in the wind
But now I lay before you as a trembling tree!

    Attacked by the axe of ambulance, due to my
decomposing disease. Ligaments languish as fragmented
foliage and organs become tainted tangerines!

    As my conscious collides with the wind... Ivy of my illness
binds my tethered trunk, spiders of suicide descend down branches!
Crawling beyond broken bark... cracking my vitiated vision!

    As the sun sank into our garden of healthy hilarity.
My withered wood fades into a cloud come with  no stellar stars or stealthy skies.

    After all these years... where are my pastures of prayer?
Where is my happy ending?!?
I await for the decorum... as this deathly deluge devours me!