They ask why my eyes
stare blankly into space,
and why no emotions
blanket my face.

My walls reach higher,
my skin grows rough,
my smile turns dull.
My heart has had enough.

Silence fills conversations,
sadness glazes stares.
Fear fiercely pushes away
any person who cares.

I don't understand
why I feel this way.
For I tell them to leave,
yet I long that they stay.

‪He once said he valued our love
too much to fight‬.
‪So he'd swallow his pride, ‬
‪and tell me I was right‬.

He now screams‬ violently
‪until his voice becomes sore.
And I tell him he's right,
because I love him more.
‪

Weights.
One thousand weights
resting on the heart,
until it breaks.

So heavy,
yet so hallow.
Tears yearn to emerge,
but they're swallowed.

Happiness, peace, effort,
exerted into the world.
Nothing left
for the girl.

The writer traveled along as well.
He always had a story to tell
of perceptions he had carefully compiled.
With a journal in hand, often he smiled.

Composing notes and observing all.
Taking in scenery, watching leaves fall.
With a furrowed brow and squinted eyes,
constantly wondering, questioning, “why?”

Intuitive and brave, he painted
illustrations with words he created.
His appearance was pleasant,
one would feel graced by his presence.

Optimism was his pure demeanor,
not one other viewed the world clearer.
He cherished life and all that it entailed.
With golden hair, his skin was far from paled.

His closeness to the floor of the earth,
Made him understand the importance of its worth.
And so he writes of the world’s wonders,
he writes of each person’s blunders.
For the mysteries that lie within his soul,
are written on the pages he never told.

Help suffering people to seek salvation,
for they are not greedy.
These people need your blessings,
They are very needy.

Look upon the faces
of all your suffering children.
Do you realize and see
what kind of world we live in?

Look into the souls
of all the poor and dying.  
Do you see them? Do you hear them?
They are screaming and crying.

Look into the hearts
of your Father’s deepest creation.
They are giving up, not persevering.
They need your motivation.

Come down to us,
and hear your people’s plea.
Grant them everlasting life.
Please, set them free.

When I was six-and-ten,
I heard a wise man warn,
“Follow your heart, not your head,
and true love will be born.
Once you find love,
Do not set it free.”
But I was six-and-ten,
Naïve of what was to be.

When I was six-and-ten,
I heard him warn once more,
“Do not dissuade your heart’s desire,
to please those who deplore.”
For love is unique,
it can never truly be defined.”
Now I am eight-and-ten,
still lamenting the victory of my mind.

I know a girl. I see her walking down a busy street. Her eyes are glossy with tears that are assembling rapidly, shielding her vision. She walks with her head down, examining the ground below her, desperately trying to disappear into the background of the chaotic world. She is so beautiful; or at least, that is what they tell her. She looks in the mirror, searching for every flaw that she is able to find, becoming increasingly dissatisfied. She turns sideways, lifting up her shirt to expose her stomach. Imperfection upon imperfection. She meets a boy. He is everything she needs. He tells her she is beautiful. Therefore, it must be true.

She finds solace through the drugs and alcohol that distort her brain. She wants to forget what she looks like. She longs to dismiss her past. At the conclusion of the evening, she stumbles her way into his arms. She cannot take care of herself. She needs him; or at least she tells herself she does. She cannot stand alone.