Strange, really
How there's no warning to the faucet
Or which words holding the trigger
will suddenly appear and show its face
O' words, how violent you are
There was a time when I looked forward
to the curvy letters of your body
stretching across the plain plane
Turning a white empty line to colorful inspiration
With words like love, happiness, and joy
given to me by thou, giddy and gay
But now I see,
That words were used as weapon
Violently beating upon my soul,
Drummer or Gunner, the effect the same
Ringing ears and burnt eyes from you letters
Using this canvas as a carnival of hurt
Using words such as Hate, Anger, Sorrow
Their dangerous curves bringing with a terrible allure
But I can asure
That I too can wield these weapons
Twin hilted swords of Fruitless and Revenge
Double barreled Pain and Failure
and the ones that shot me down from the skies
The cannons of Hate and Anger.
I however,
Tired and beat down
Love licking my wounds
Sleeping joy of memories past
Keep me from retaliation.
I love your letters, But I hate you Words
Without letters you are useless
But without words, I'm speechless
O' how I hate thee, cruel words
Strange, really

Twisting painlessly, yet uncomfortable under these wings
of angels and Mary, Him and His cross
No feeling of love, no feeling of help
No relief from the tormenting thoughts
twirling under the duress of nothing
Words waning into the void in the back of my mind
and in time, singing empty silence of the devoid
Lost, staring at the ceiling as one would read a book
tuning out the world and focused on symbols written on parchment
Turning pages with my eyes, reading each line
Each chapter different
Learning, speaking to you with ears open, seeking your words out of the sky
Yearning, burning desire that leaks into my pores, causing motionless sweat
Hurting, the chapter that is reread with despair
and I read with emotions splayed for those to see
who would dare look into my eyes in my moment of private consultation?
For if you so choose to look without breaking my silence, you would see
the strings attached to my chest, playing my mind like a puppet
tugging my heart with each excruciating word that runs through my mind
a pain like a scar; too much to bare but you press it anyway
And as I sit in this room, thinking such things
near tears and ready to disappear
I realize that these spread angel wings are not for me
and the ****** is ****** no longer
His son is the one that loved us
as proof that he hangs no longer
But He doesn't cry for me, and these prayers go unanswered
These screams of love have yet to cease, and we aren't any closer
Half a country away from your touch and your love
seems much farther away to me
then the touch of angels on a endless sea
where the Holy child sleeps in Heaven above

Your love wasn't the kind
that knocked me off my feet;
I still stood tall

Your love wasn't the kind
That made me stumble;
I still felt strong

But your love
has grown on me,
And I can't escape

I dream at night
of what would happen
if your love should leave

I would be left to face
the world on my own and,
I am certain I would fall

Because without your love
to help keep me tall,
I will get knocked off my feet

Without your love
to keep me stong,
I will stumble