Twisting painlessly, yet uncomfortable under these wings
of angels and Mary, Him and His cross
No feeling of love, no feeling of help
No relief from the tormenting thoughts
twirling under the duress of nothing
Words waning into the void in the back of my mind
and in time, singing empty silence of the devoid
Lost, staring at the ceiling as one would read a book
tuning out the world and focused on symbols written on parchment
Turning pages with my eyes, reading each line
Each chapter different
Learning, speaking to you with ears open, seeking your words out of the sky
Yearning, burning desire that leaks into my pores, causing motionless sweat
Hurting, the chapter that is reread with despair
and I read with emotions splayed for those to see
who would dare look into my eyes in my moment of private consultation?
For if you so choose to look without breaking my silence, you would see
the strings attached to my chest, playing my mind like a puppet
tugging my heart with each excruciating word that runs through my mind
a pain like a scar; too much to bare but you press it anyway
And as I sit in this room, thinking such things
near tears and ready to disappear
I realize that these spread angel wings are not for me
and the ****** is ****** no longer
His son is the one that loved us
as proof that he hangs no longer
But He doesn't cry for me, and these prayers go unanswered
These screams of love have yet to cease, and we aren't any closer
Half a country away from your touch and your love
seems much farther away to me
then the touch of angels on a endless sea
where the Holy child sleeps in Heaven above