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Amber Blank Jul 2014
Thoughts, worries, dreams, and hopes
All running faster than lightning through her brain.
A constant stream down a raging river.
Twisting and turning, moving faster and faster
Every failure, every painful memory weighs so heavy it begins to crush what is left of her heart.
So many bricks she made over the years to build this wall around her true self.
The window to her soul has been nailed and painted shut.
Fear was the motivation
Fear of rejection, fear of loving without love in return
The fear if she became vulnerable or open that another heart break would **** her.
This internal struggle is her undoing
Compound with the worry of life, the pain to see the disappointment in her child's eyes.
The tears because she is too young to understand how cruel this world can be.
So helpless yet expected to be stronger than steel.
So in the light of day she hides the agony away.
Blocks the darkness of depression from her face
But in the solitude of the silent night, it bleeds through her skin, takes over her mind.
Until it consumes her soul, no rest, no easy escape
She wrestles through the hours of the evening
Only to wake over and over alone.
Amber Blank Jul 2014
Funny how a building with four walls made of brick becomes a home.
Becomes almost like a member of your family
The memories seep deep into the paint
Hopes and dreams fill the air in every room
Every tear shed, every laugh shared, every scream in anger, every lonely evening, all bundled up and all that will remain
Now after almost 8 years my home is being taken away
After fighting for a hopeless marriage, surviving a ugly divorce, and the worry for this single mom, its all being snatched away.
I tried my best but no help was offered from this cold world, of banks and money and power.
Where I am only a number, not a person
They don't seem my struggles, they don't seem that I have spent my life trying to help my fellow man, regardless of the pain it may cause
All that is left are boxes of card board line the walls
Every photo removed
Every memory packed away
Every mark on the door showing how my little girl has grown
The driveway she rode a bike in for the first time.
The room I rocked her to sleep in
So sad to leave this old friend behind
So hopeless and frail are the now empty walls
So eerily quiet are the rooms once filled with love.
Once filled with lullabies and songs, laughter and fun.
Dancing in the kitchen
Making pallets and forts on the floor.
All gone.
Amber Blank Jul 2014
Even at a tender age, I never seemed to fit in on this generation's page
Something deep inside sparked thoughts and visions of a life long ago.
Words of songs my ears have never heard flowed out like a prayer.
Without effort or consideration.
Always a love for antiques, objects with a past all their own
Seem like old familiar friends that this soul may have known
Always a struggle for this soul has felt far wiser that the age of the body in which it resides
Certain places, faces, and smells send me into flash backs of another life in time.
Not quite clear but non the less present
Drives me to wonder
Was there a purpose unfilled
A reason for one soul to live again and again
Until finally destiny is complete.
Amber Blank May 2014
Strong comforting smell awakes my senses
Pulls me like a magnetic field
Out of my warm, soft alluring nest
Lead by the nostrils like a leash to the kitchen
Where this black gold has hypnotized my mind and body
Trickling down my throat
Filling this body with a gentle burning sensation
Awaking the soul
Amber Blank May 2014
Silence is a gift
An escape from the constant noise of this tragic play
Removed from all technology and the constant exchange of information
No one tugging at my soul
No one breaking my spirit
No words of discouragement or condemnation
No static of electricity fogging up my mind

Alone in my reality
Free to ponder life's greatest mysteries, without fear of judgement or ridicule
Free to create and watch imagination flow
To live in a fantasy of my own
A world that only exists for me
A place where time no longer plays a part
Where money and material things hold no value.
Amber Blank May 2014
Gentle, warm breeze caresses my cheek
Wind flows like fingers through my hair
For a moment my hand is flying on the breeze as it hangs out the window of my car.
Sunshine lands on my face and thaws a frozen heart
For that single solitary moment my soul is free
All the worries of the mind give way to each individual sense.
Amazed how simple pleasures can set us free
Remove all inhibition
Strip away the ugliness of this world
I imagine this is how heaven will be
A million simple pleasures that repeat over infinity
Our eyes will truly be opened and see the beauty of the small moments
See the magnitude of all that was taken for granted during our mortal life
Like the sweet song of birds as they wake to the rising sun
The chirp of crickets on a warm summer evening
The formation of clouds as they float by
The smell of a fire burning on a crisp autumn eve.
The glistening of fire flies through the trees
The comforting lullaby of a mother's voice
How lucky are we?
If only for a moment to experience how wonderful this world can be
Amber Blank May 2014
First let me say:
No one is perfect
We all are unique
We all learn differently
We think seperatley
Our dreams and ambitions belong to our individual souls.
So why do yoy expect my daughter to be a cookie cutter image of a child at her age?
She is special and perfect in my eyes.
With a heart of pure innoscense and gold.
But all you see are the tears, the tantrums, and the fears.
You don't see the sweet little girl that cries herself to sleep because she never feels good enough.
You don't see the defeat and pain in her big brown eyes when a task is difficult or hard to understand.
The frustration because she doesn't know how to cope or why shes not like the rest.
The depth of exhaustion she experiences every day because her little body is not strong enough to master the challenges of the day.
You don't see the despiration to be accepted and loved.
Her mind and body communicate at the speed of light or at the pace of a tourtise.
So young she has no words to explain the torture that normal activities cause her pain.
You don't see the spatk of hope when praised for a job well done.
You don't hear her screams for help. A hand to guide her through this world.
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