i'm not heartbroken
just a little heart-sprained

i'm not sad
just don't have the happiness i once claimed

i'm not angry
just not as understanding anymore

i'm not bitter
just not as sweet as i was before

i know that with bones, a clean break
is usually better than a sprain

so i just hope

that a heartbreak
isn't better

than a heart-sprain

Man is not meant to be alone
Yet down this path I shall go
Through forest tall and valley low

The road stretches
Beyond my sight
The world is cold
As if at night

The stars they fall
And pass away
Darkness bleeds
On into day

I stumble forward
Through rock and thorn
Continuing on
My path forlorn

When light I see
I'll close my eyes
And with the sun
I too shall rise

Man is not meant to be alone
Yet down this path I shall go
Through forest tall and valley low
Ever onward I shall go

I was just wondering if alot of your life is pain
bad things happen again and again how am I to explain how to be happy in lots of pain.
Do you belive we can be happy in so much pain ?
When it happens again and again do I attract the same is this my shame?
Is this my cross to bear my blame my pain.
         I just want to be happy again x
I don't want to be stained in pain just remain the shame I want to change **
   Get rid of my pain x
Not relive it again and again
    How do I become happy  
How do I face my pain
Become my change
I just want to be happy .
To not put the blame on pain
To fight my strains
Become my pain
Maybe then I can change x

The boxes
which keep my blood clean
are stacked as tall as I,
a monument
in the spare room
to past battles.
Too many words,
too many thoughts
******* in the
hand-to-hand combat
with mortality.

No more.

What life I have
will not be defined
by an indeterminate end.

I live to write poems;
I will no longer die in them.

There is a storm
gathering in
            my womb
soon to explode
into a thousand
crimson stars
lighting up
my veins with fire
and unraveling
deep-set,
          knotted scars
and the gentle rage
outside my window
presses on, inside my head
as I lie here,
my thoughts twisted
in a cozy, yet empty bed
my thoughts unfurl
in misty haze
           curl into
                      smoky
                 rouge
as nightsky thunder rolls
into creamed saxophone
                          deluge
the snare drum beats
in firelight
ripple sheets
in silky flutter
as my fingers strum
my womanly instruments
into loamy, primal butter
my voice in quiet utterance
as the heavens open
           to heavy rains
                    that liquefy
                           my desert
                 hydrate my
           bare-soul caves
so I electrify my echoes
into fruited, crystal drips
frothing up my
cherry wine
upon these moistened,
hungry lips