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Ive built a wall around my heart. Dont mistaken the guard I have up for strength. The ability to allow yourself to be vulnerable is true strength, and what I have grown to become is quite the opposite, shut off and distant. From all the pain Ive witnessed, Ive created a maze, to confuse and throw off anyone with intentions of getting to the core of my emotions. Ive let others in too easily in the past, and am not sure if Ive grown weaker or stronger as a result. All I know is Ive become a challange that not many can or are willing to conquer. Maybe Im pushing people away, maybe Im filtering out those who are undeserving, Im not sure. All I know is Ive become intentionally difficult. Maybe its fear of being hurt again, maybe Im wise enough to spot a threat to my mental well being before they breach my thoughts and feelings. Am I strong or am I weak? Again, Im not sure, but all I know is that Im still that child of old, filled with fear and skepticism, through being exposed to great depths of turmoil. These experiences have caused me to take up defenses and bear an armor, for Ive found that most of my distress has been caused by the most trusted, and seemingly sincere. All of this has left me in a state of disarray as I second guess, and over think. Maybe Im the problem, and one day I could unwittingly be over bearing, and over protecting of my love, and push away the one Im meant to be with. My true phobia is that my own fear will imprison me, and Ill be responsible for my own solitude. I would then be the one self harming, by refusing the chance at real love. Ive become my own worst enemy, blind to my own self sabotaging ways, while actively redefining it as precaution, in order to remain in a comfort zone built with overwhelming denial.
A magnet called to see the iron dome
Knock knock, is there anyone at home
A faint voice from within
Said in Hebrew, I’m tin
And my walls are as fragile as foam
It is difficult enough to make amends with the living;
When you still bear the bruises from the cuts they have left,
And words still linger from the air of their breath
As pain resides within, like an unwelcomed guest.  

So ponder the torment of having to forgive the dying;
When the real bruises can now be found on their skin,  
Rancid air filled with indecision, faded and thin.
As pain turns into guilt, ghostly and restless.
A poem about forgiveness, particularly of the living and the dying.
With confusion
As to why blood hates blood
Is it not suppose to be thicker than water
Istead of flowing like water to the drain
Those genetics
Water down the drain
Memories
Water under the bridge
Bridges between planets
Is heaven another planet
Heaven's will does not seem to be done on earth
What kind of heritage does that culture
DC today
Mark Rothko cards
Dali's Last Supper
Sunlit afternoon

Text my son at work
He's doin' alright
Memories of our kitchen
Staring at Flaming June

Books have been companions
Red Pine's Road to Heaven
Markson in New York City
Halloween coming soon

Arrival
Star Trek
Galaxy Quest
Dune.

— The End —