My murky heart is once more stained
and I'm done
like suicide.
I’m prepared to die
but I won’t turn a blind eye.
This world needs love,
already so much pain. People cannot help
but harm for their own gain.
As I look on I'm consumed
with rage.

Sapped.
Energy subsumed by enemies
who would make a fool out of love.
Who would make a fool out of love?
Why do I feel insane?
Inane doubt. Weak.
There are those who seek borrowed strength
but I’m straining. Breaking the bank.

Busting the cage.
Addressing a blank page.
Writing a future for you and me
so children can handle the horrors of living.
It starts with forgiving.