To heal
is to create

To heal is to create a
new and improved version
of what was left in a pile of
shattered emotions

To heal is to break free
from the chains
that held you back
for so long

To heal is to learn
how to breathe again

To heal is to
feel alive
and to start anew

To heal is to become
a masterpiece;
a mosaic of pain and heartache,
reimagined into the most beautiful
thing to have ever existed

I was told by my peers that letting my voice be heard was preferred, yet they say the words I speak are absurd

What's the point of freedom of speech if my words still have a safety lock. The day I will be happy is the day I find the key to chains around my throat

I don't want to drown in this ******* but just stay afloat. if I always wrote by putting my pencil on paper, why does someone else have to be my eraser

I am a chaser of dreams and a speaker of my thoughts. I will untangle the knots that they keep tying. I will preach my beliefs even when I'm dying.

As an inexplicable soul,
Trapped behind bar's
Of the flesh;

I awaiteth to break
Out of this worldly abode;
Where mine wing's canst fly
Far away from this nest.

In a white robe to be dressed,
In a Faraway home; soaring
Peaks O' unknown,
How the flowers
Impress.

None shackles to mine feet,
Nor any chem trailed air;
Just the sound's that
Surround, their word's
To flow through
Mine hair.

I'll use gold to write with,
Silver to create its depth;
O' I wilt cherish the saint's
Of gods endless breath.

Rose petals to be the paint,
As the petals never die,
Nor shalt the day turn into night,
God is the sun, the moon,
The light.

I'll gaze the foreign, strange
Sights, being no less
Important, I wilt sing
With the flowers, as
they'll appreciate my
Purpose.

©lonesome poet's poetry
©Brandon nagley

My heart is tangled in chains
and the more it throbs for you
the tighter it clings

the chains of our
youth did not exist
as you may recall;
decisions made by
the flip of a switch,
seconds before hands
rose towards the sky.

novel textures fit
between fingers; smooth,
crisp – colors perfected by the
unwieldy and wild.
all a respite for
a world upon which hands
lay straight lines.

Hein...

            my courage to break the chain
             is your chance to smile again

If only I had strength of heart and mind,
So easily could I leave my chains behind...

Could I in my own efforts, pick myself up if I were dead?
Could I in my own efforts, heal the wounds which I continue to inflict
Could I in my own efforts, prepare to mend the sickness for which I have no cure?
Could I in my own effort, become the person I want too, but don't have the means to become

Could I in my own efforts, harness the power and the strength that I simply do not possess on my own
could I possibly in my own efforts, conquer something in my past that I have failed to over come

The answer is elegant yet most simple, of course I could not!
Could I in my own efforts fall to my knees
Could I in my own efforts, weep and lay still
Could I in my own efforts, move not one inch
Could I in my own efforts, utter a cry for help
Could I in my own efforts be liberated?
Not without a liberator good and strong to break down the gates
And I ask myself will I call for such liberation

The answer has come when I fear I shall not be liberated.
And so in my state I confess that I, am in need of a liberator