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I feel heavy. Dark. The shadows of my past won't let me go. My demons are forever my companions. There is a constant war within me. I am a very very angry person. Mostly angry at myself. But I harm others in my rage. It's latent. Hidden. You don't see it. Or understand it. But you suffer from it. When I hurt you without thinking, that's the anger inside me. I don't know how to love you. I only know how to bleed. How to break. How to hurt. I am simultaneous a clumsy child and a raging monster. A ravenous wolf and a fear-inspired rabbit. I don't know how to live happy. I don't know how to handle peace. I'm like a lifetime drunk trying to function sober... I don't know how to live without the drug. My drug is pain, and I am lost without it. I feel dark tonight. And I don't know how to move towards the light.
A text I typed out, but didn't have the guts to send to my girlfriend.
If the dream dies,
Will it ever fly again?
Head on, crash course,
Destination Devestation.
So step on the gas, Baby.
We're gonna fly or die
In glorious flames.
She steps into the room,
Timidity and grace;
Innocence and caution synchronized.
She feels you watching her
And quickly turns away-
But it's too late,
She's been defiled by your eyes.

She's just another pretty girl
On whom to feast your eyes-
Another helpless victim to your gaze.
It doesn't matter what she wears,
It doesn't matter what she hides-
The second you set eyes on her,
She becomes your latest prey.

A slave to your senses,
You mother ******* perv!
I hate you and all your twisted ways.
A ******* of duplicity-
A ravenous, worthless curr-
Twisted in your soul
And ****** up in your brain!

'Cause you've got X-ray vision,
And you **** her with your mind;
Defile her with your very gaze.
You strip her down and play with her,
Debauched within your mind;
Violated, objectified, debased.
I grew up with nine sisters. I love them all so very much. Growing up with that many women, I learned a love and respect for women that is all but lost on my male peers. It absolutely sickens me to see the way they talk about, check out, and treat women. It burns me with a firey rage inside. And it kills me inside when I catch myself falling into those same thought patterns. So, this song is as much to myself as it is to the rest of the men out there. When will we learn to cherish and honor women for the wonderful people they are, created, like man, in the image of God? It breaks my heart.
I come not for the joyful,
Who have a song to sing.
And I am not the kind
Who will leave you smiling.
Rather, I'm the kind of singer
Who looks to pierce you to the core.
I'm probably not who you're looking for-
I'm a heavy kinda soul

Cause I'm a bleeder,
And I'm a dreamer
I wear my heart out on my ragged sleeve-
I'm a heavy kinda soul.
     Happiness just ain't my thing,
And peace is always far away
Smiles are as rare as a desert breeze,
Cause I'm a heavy kinda soul.

I don't want to entertain you
I want to touch your heart.
I am the voice for the broken,
Hiding in the dark.
Maybe the only other one
Who understands the Darker Road-
Cause I'm a heavy kinda soul.

Cause I'm a bleeder,
And I'm a dreamer
I wear my heart out on my ragged sleeve-
I'm a heavy kinda soul.
     Happiness just ain't my thing,
And peace is always far away
Smiles are as rare as a desert breeze,
Cause I'm a heavy kinda soul.

If you hear me,
Would please weep too?
Would you let me know that I'm not alone?
I want to give the broken, a song they can call their own,
But I'm so broken too.
Cause I'm a heavy kind of soul.
Almost everyone I know tells me I need to write happier poetry and happier music. I'm told I'm too sad. And I need to find Joy. Well, if that's how you feel, I'm not talking to you. I'm not going to able to change who I am- I'm a heavy kinda soul and I sing to those who bear this weight as well.
You're a monster and I hate you-
Let me go!
Your a comfort and I need you-
Hold me close!
Me! I! Myself! Mine!

I shout these words in militant exertion,
Demanding people to stop,
Commanding them to hear,
Ordering their full, undivided, worshipful attention.

"Am I not the centre of the universe!? Listen to ME!" I scream,
And sulk like an angry child as the world continues on,
Unperturbed, unaltered, un-adoring,
Without even noticing my voice.

If no one else will pay me heed,
Then I, at least, must do so.
So I worship my own image,
And prostrate myself before the alter of my self conceit.
I sing my own praises to my own ear,
And ******* myself to myself
in a vain attempt to satisfy my undying vanity.

Oh, you vainglorious *******!
Made illegitimate by the illegitimacy of your false worship
And the hypocrisy of your heart.
Do you not know, you were made to kneel? Fashioned to bow,
Not to your own image, but before the visage if Him Who made you in His own likeness
That you might bear within yourself the most sacred cartouche,
The most precious signet,
The most holy seal.

For you have been called to higher things than this broken clay vessel you defile with your adulterous worship.
Oh, you conceited fool!
Puffed up in your own pride,
Unaware of how utterly worthless you have made yourself.

And yet your Maker still stoops from Heaven
To hear your piteous moans,
And His heart weeps to see your self-inflicted wounds.

Thus He reaches down
And whispers His deepest Love to you
While you are yet gleefully drowning in your sin.

So unaware are you of anything but fleshly gratification.
But He touches you,
When you least expect it.
Like pearls discovered in a dung heap,
He surprises you with the Treasure of His Grace.
And with the tenderness of His Loving touch,
Lifts you from your mire and whispers in your ear:

"Oh, my Little Worm, I am your Redeemer."
The primary concept behind this poem comes from the Bible in the Book of Isaiah, Chapter 41, verse 14. In this chapter, God is speaking to the wayward, sinful people of Israel. In verse fourteen, He says " 'Fear not, you worm, Jacob, you men of Israel! I am the One who helps you,' declares the Lord; 'Your Redeemer is the Holy One of Israel."

The way that God calls His people a "worm" struck me. Because it's not used as an insult, or said in disappointment. But rather it is spoken as though this little worm, most worthless of all the creatures, was especially dear to Him. He loves us despite our lowly, worthless state. And He whispers this promise over His Beloved worm: "Do not be afraid. For I am your Redeemer."

Oh, how beautiful is that!
How hard it is to articulate,
     To make words make sense.
     String them along in a sentence
To craft and manipulate,
   This insanely difficult thing we call
"Language."

How hard it is to emphasize
The right word, right line,
Make it all interjoin and intertwine,
Combine
And rhyme,
     Shape it,
     Weave it
Into this insanely difficult thing we call
"Poetry."

How hard it is to breath
     Life into this verse,
    Make it transverse,
From pen to page to eye to mind to soul.
Where it can nest like a coal
     And burn and flame and thrive.
     And give birth to this insanely difficult thing we call
"Life."
This poem is magical to me because I wrote it when I was absolutely exhausted. It was so difficult to make words make sense, even to speak to someone. But I wrote this during break times at work, and throughout the process, I found it giving me strength and energy. It is amazing to me that the creative process can give such energy and life to a person.
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