As the sweat rolls down my temple, I could only think of the  mental... pictures of fire and rage.
But deep in the midst of it, is love and it’s daze.
The tears slowly caress down my cheek, I wonder why I’m so mentally weak.
My mental weakness keeps me from moving on from my hurt.
It’s like the pain and rage is normal comfortable day.
But it’s wrong, just all wrong.
This isn't how my life is supposed to be.
My life is supposed to be physically, mentally and emotionally free.
My blood, sweat and tears only show people that I have done some type of hard work. It doesn't show people that I am violent, dangerous and maybe just me.
Maybe this is my “ meant to be”.
But my blood, sweat and  tears is all you can see.