Heartache may I leave behind...
Close a tattered, broken door...
Put it on my back, and sink-
as a cup of pain I drink-
onto the dusty, wooden floor.

Help me to forsake emotion
felt in times of sorrow's snares;
As I sit; behind me knowing
that a fest'ring bond is growing
between my past and present cares.

Lift my head, with tears from crying,
buried deep between my knees.
Help me feel, from this room's blunder
that admist emotional thunder
blows a soft and tender breeze.

Suddenly, I feel much calmer...
Not as much bound to my past...
For, what has happened now is done,
and all control of it is gone...
Why, then, should these emotions last?

Behind this wooden, tattered door
is not who I am inside.
So I stand, and step away,
turn around, and firmly say...
'My purpose, you will not deride! '