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Tony Oquendo Aug 2014
Heavy the weight that one must carry when things start to come apart,

Emotions unbound a soul in sorrow the burdens of a troubled heart;

I will be your friend and while your heart mends I will share in your joys and sorrow,

And wait for that day when you finally say, things will be better tomorrow.
Whitney Grey Nov 2017
We live with burdens
Made heavier by loss
And the sensation from what’s missing
Call pain those sensations —
Tingling or sharp stabs
Which it’s known
Without feel —never experience
Others don’t know what we feel
Nicole Eden Aug 2017
Tired
Fading with the wind
Exausthed
Body limp from the day's burdens
Emotionally drained
From the verbal abuse
Mind bruised
Body aches
Heart broken
I am tired
Mio Seanachaidh Jun 2017
There are things far worse than death

A dead soul still trapped and forced to live on in life
A heart still beating even though dead inside wanting to die yet living each day

A fate that is draining

A burden too heavy to bear
Punishment
For all your frustration,
go bellow into the ear of the wind.

For all your unrest,
go whisper into the crush of the sea.

For all your aches,
Go sigh into the sheets of your slumber.

For all thoughts shouting in the night,
Go Find an ear
that gives you the time of day.
SøułSurvivør Jan 2017
A green, unseasoned ox
Was put unto the plow
A yoke was placed upon it
To work the master's rows
It balked at the job given
For it did not know how.

The master saw it's plight
He knew it had to learn
So he brought a great and seasoned ox
And a double yoke was worn
They both pulled a wagon
Filled from stem to stern.

The master tapped them with the reins
They both began to pull
The new and yet unknowing ox
Got it in its skull
To go a path that was unsafe
It's wits were yet quite dull.

So it balked again and cried
To go the other way
But the great and seasoned ox
Stood there in the fray
He allowed the younger ox
To buck and buck all day.

So finally the younger ox
Was tired, began to wheeze
It knew it was defeated
It's pride was finally seized
It bowed down in humility
And fell onto its knees.

The ox cried bitterly
In its enormous shame
The other ox was greatly moved
For its weeping out HIS NAME
He nuzzled it & stroked it
For HE was once the same.

The master, too, came off his seat
And succored the poor beast
He gave it food and water
Held it to his breast
The greater ox lay down with it
So that it could rest.

The young ox finally rallied
Was ready for the fight
Of pulling the great burden...
... but found that it was light!
For the greater ox was pulling, too
He stout and he forthright!

The master smiled proudly
The young ox would reach the goal...

And what WAS this great burden?

Billions of HUMAN SOULS...


SoulSurvivor
(C)1/28/2017


*"Come to me, all you who are weary
and burdened, and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you and learn from
me, for I am gentle and humble in heart,
and you will find rest for your souls.
For my yoke is easy,
and my burden is light."

Matthew 11:28-30 NIV
The Bible gives us great analogies to our walk with the Lord. This particular metaphor, I believe, is extremely apt. In biblical times when there was a great burden to be hauled, the Master of the cart would yoke an unseasoned ox with one who had carried the cart for many years. The younger learned from the older. And the burden what's much lighter for both oxen...

I haven't been around much due to my personal burden. I was also balking at the yoke I was carrying. But Jesus is so gentle and kind. He helped me through it.

Thank you to all who read me! I'm going to be reading myself today...

♡ I £♡¥€ YOU ALL! ♡

-
Cynthia Jean Oct 2016
i'm gonna lay my burdens
down
my God
He's
gonna
pick
them
up
..
.

Cj 2016
Tamara Fraser Aug 2016
I’m nervous, simply waiting for you to snap me
like a twig.
I’ve bundled my feelings, my loves and hates,
all those outspoken words
and all those silenced words,
into a little gift-wrapped, topped-with-a-bow
gift
for you.

You will accept it.
It is what comes after, when it reaches your nimble hands,
that frightens me.

You weave your skill so well,
like knitted discord inside, I can feel
when I reach in to see if I’m all still there.
Under many dark moons,
you leave your shadow to keep me company.

It walks beside me, keeping my head whirring on into the
small hours of the darkened dawn when
I see it
at the foot of my bed
watching me sleep.
You told it to crawl into all the tight spaces
inside me,
with me.
It reminds me of you, endlessly, always,
breathing your name as I surrender to closing my eyes,
vulnerable lying before your peering shadow,
it could stop me breathing in a heartbeat.

Only you, sweet devil, can keep me falling so hard
so fast,
shedding myself trailing from your bed to mine.
I linger in the smell of you wrapped around my clothes,
taken off in a hurry as your words,
sizzling spitfire,
hand-made cuts and invisible haemorrhage
shatter me to pieces
easy enough for you to pick and keep in
your bed until you are finally finished
with me.

All I feel is the burden of myself,
when I really have no burden to hold.
I’m a phone running out of battery when you need it most.
Filled with a frenzied panic, a slap of frustration passes your face
to use against me all that bottled irritation.
If I don’t touch you back you will
wield it against me,
blame for insensitivity, a slowly seeping coldness
I can fight off under your roaming form
in a shady light of fear.

Your emotional abuse is a character.
It has a body, limbs and hollow face and it can bruise me
with a single touch.
I never leave my body open with you.
And to what end do I let you paint me with your manipulations,
your scheming tactics
your irrevocable evidence I’m worth nothing more for you;
like a girl’s doll known to be too pretty,
putting sticky residue inside their goals at night.

So use me with your infamous fingers.
I dare you, do it.
Again.
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