.
••••••••
••••••••••••••••
sound of running puddles•
listen...to the          as they make
window pane•             their way out
   pelting my                         of stagnant
       the rain•                    troubles•listen
            sound of                  ...to the calm
                   ...to the                calling of
               listen                     the moist
            •                          breeze•as it
                 whispers its hopeful
        promises and decrees• 
listen...to the chaos in
   my heart •  heals it-    
self everyday  be-    
fore again it gets    
torn apart      
••••        

.

How I lie and break, broken till to the very tip of my bone
I dislike how I ate my own hate, swallowed till it reaches the gate
How the voices preach to breach the barriers of the untouched soul
Purity bleach the acidic preaches of ones owned,
rinsing the putrid echoes of THE hateful stone.

Innocence remains unreached; it’s a battle of everyday presence.
My pure essence survives the life’s impermanence.

Winning and Losing stands in equilibrium.
Life is not as tasty as the sweet brew.