When we were innocent children
In the magic stage of life
We were justified in our victim stance
That drove our need for flight
Now we answer to an inner voices
Call it what you shall
Call it Mother, call it God
Call it the lines which we tread upon
Cross we dare in our hearts despair
Still I pray not to find you there...

Confession time,
Where's my priest?
When I was little I had it all planned out.
"In the name of the father and of the son and of the holy spirit, Amen.
It has been six months since my last confession and these are my sins."
I fought with my family.
I swore.
And I lied.
That is what I said for seven years.
I loved to throw a wrench in the machine.
When I was fourteen I added in a little tid bit to my routine.
"I am gay".
It was the longest pause I had ever heard.
And then it went completely ignored.
How rude of me to try and provoke you, father.

Pain stricken.
What defines the realms of pain?
If it's not physical or visible, is it really there?
Is the crippling of it just in our head or is it really that bad?
To care so much for others,
To really feel the pang in the chest as if it was happening to you first hand.
Empathy.
But when should the line be drawn?
The world needs more empathy, compassion and nurture.
But can one give to much?
Should there be a switch off point, when you say"I need to put myself first"
What if you cant find your switch and are forever giving,
Draining all you powerful energies into others,
until you don't have enough to lift yourself.
You feel the tether getting thinner but you carry on.
Is there a point when the things you value most in yourself
Just run out.
Will you be left feeling broken?
Invincible maybe?
Or just numb?