When you feel like you're screaming but your throat has stalled like a decrepit engine
Even as the fear rises akin to bile in your lungs and your senses are drowning in confusion
You keep screaming because your heart wants to still its own pulse
You know that feeling where you wake up heart racing breath huffing cold sweat on your brow
They say its because your heart rate dropped so low your brain defibrillated your heart to keep you alive
Its worse when you've just been dreaming
It takes your dreams whatever kin they be and Ends them
Ends you.
You wake up
    You wake up
        You were falling
            You were about to die.
And then you look at the calendar and go 'I have to do things today.'
And you wish your heart was still falling.
Singing a song you never heard before but which you loved because it was so Alien to the idea of you
You think, don't give up, don't give up, and you make it a mantra.
Your heart beats to that rhythm like your brain sending you memos of its continued survival.

You are still screaming on the inside. You put some music on to drown yourself out. And you are at 'peace'.

Inside the Masonite
The contour lines aren't dark enough
Left behind a stark remark
Start as a lark in the dark
And you're smart for standing there
Behind the mines
But on top of boxes
And piles of boxes
Cigarette buts on the curb, left behind from following the curb line
Down the road
Around the mounds and above the dips
Follow the curb line up
Don't fall into a drain
Because the drains will always lead you somewhere
But they always end
And they're never clean

'Cause if you wake up and it's still raining,
you can sleep some more.
And if tomorrow may not shine,
go out. Dance with the rain.
Sometimes that's all we really need.
'To see the beauty in the rain.'

amidst the decaying, black soil, a daisy
Blooms
neither a figment of one's imagination, nor abrasively prominent,
it sits quietly
Hope
defiant amongst the encumbering pain
a lone promise unyieldingly rooted

I don't accept help well,
I was raised to hold my own.

They say in order to survive
a man made of sterner things
organs blood tissues marrow  
Sadness hollow darkness sorrow
bones that break
and hands that shake
am I not meant survive?
Sterner stuff is not what comprises
I cannot take all of life's surprises

They leapt at her,
Crept inside her mind and
Altered her thoughts.
They intervened with her emotions,
Caused her to imagine new worlds
Of which she was not a part.
They scared her
And with her rope of ignorance,
She strangled the words.

My dear.

Everything we endure, seems to mutate us into something else.
The fact is, we will never be who we were.
Nor should we be expected to be.
We are a collection of our sins, and accomplishments.
But it doesn't mean we don't deserve to be happy.