Basically, that's what I've become,
Numb
Emotionally numb,
Making it harder for me to succumb,
To feelings that plagued me in the past.

Yet when I say numb,
I mean sedation through pain
Confusing?
Not at all...
Especially not confusing for the numb

I spread my wings to fly,
Singing to fly,
Wishing to fly,
To be free of imprisonment,
Free of this environment.

I spread my wings to fly,
Beginning to fly,
Grinning to fly,
Hoping for a new world,
A new world of hope.

I spread my wings to fly,
To fly up and high,
Not feeling a sigh,
Escaping my lips.
Not thinking this was another painted fib.

I spread my wings to fly,
Now realising the true colours of the sky,
A beautiful elegant blue,
Not just full of life,
But full of stinging frosts and shrieking swords...

I spread my wings to fly,
But am I really flying?
Am I really flying if I am as I was before?
I spread my wings to fly,
But in reality... I never even left the earth.

The roots of trust are entwined in a soil of dependence.
The roots depend on the strength and warmth of the soil to provide nourishment.
Without dependence, trust begins to shrivel and fade,
it's roots slipping out of the loosened hold of the soil,
The plant falling,
lying alone in the cold shadows of the sun's rays.

To try to place it's roots back into soil can decay the plant further,
To try to hold up the plant without soil whilst being surrounded by nourished plants is even greater torture.
Almost any attempt is proven futile.

The only attempt one may make to have the plant to stand again is to find a very special soil.
One that meets the needs of the plants.
Soil that is willing to attend to the plant whenever the plant requires it,
to make sure trust doesn't wither in confusion,
to make sure that trust...
that trust doesn't suffer one time more.

It's painful,
Lying in the cold shadows,
Comforting your own sorrows.

It's torment,
To look for hope,
Only to find it taken by someone else.

It's agonizing,
To understand all those who surround you,
Yet not be understood by any of them.

It's torturous
To be let down so many times...
And yet still hope for comfort.

It's tortuous...
And you just seem to keep bleeding,
You just seem to keep bleeding as you move forward.

It's almost painfully painless,
Because the pain keeps coming,
Only to be numbing the scars of the past.

And it hurts,
To watch all the people around you,
Yet to feel all alone in such a small world.

You know, when you witness a car crash in full motion,
It's abruptness shakes you out of your core,
Because when cars crash on the news you only see the commotion,
Not the fragility of the moving bodies which you would never have accounted for.

You witness the horrible instantaneous compression of the car's crumple zone,
Not shown in the news reports which you usually seem to know.

You hear a sudden shriek that cries for your attention,
Not heard of in the news reports which don't describe the dreadful throe.

You feel a sudden atmosphere of sharp confusion,
Conflicting with any atmosphere you previously used to know.

The disparity of these situations is quite familiar, you know,
Something not unheard of, as many of us know,
Like the sudden moments we're frozen in time trying to start forward again,
After colliding, breaking our hopes and dreams, confused as to how to move forward again.

Day passes on to night,
Night passes on to day,
Every second that passes
Witnesses my heart's decay.

My heart lost in its previous agony
Sheds tears of sedation,
Numbing its own passions,
To forget its almost amputation.

My heart has suffered many losses,
So my brain continually consoles it,
My soul now conflicted,
As to how they should together truly fit.

My heart and mind have lost their balance,
Lost their ability to function and thrive,
Together as a partnership,
Under the observance of my soul's derive.