And I'm here, here
Lost in self conflicting thoughts
Here,
Like you wanted me to be
Though your fears have gone
They became a part of me too

You forgot them
but you left them with me
Here,
in my quivering heart
I will keep them out of love
but they grasp me painfully

Here, here with me.

Show me the heart
who was never cruel
and I will admit my
fallacy in believing
that hate is less
fearful than love.
Always too many absents
at life’s lessons and no one
who raises a hand.

Kneeling down on this filthy floor,
Filthy with guts and audacity,
In the hands of every form but me,
While im here still dreadfully desperate for an ally,
But social interaction, though I covet for it a lot,
Its still unendurable to liaise,
With all psyche and be extant,
Except the unseen ethos,
That i seek answers from at night.
©inkedsolace

Poetry is a hundred billion stars on the clearest night, the music of the night beating a pulse in you're soul that you simply can't ignore.
It's a rhythm that leaves you thinking for hours about something that would never cross your mind otherwise.
It's the chorus of the lost ones, and yet complete silence.
It's the light of our sun, and the moonlight of our moon.
It's the noise of the war and the quiet of the aftermath.
It's the fluttering of a butterfly's wings standing out against the screaming of the world.

It's the voices of the ones afraid to speak, finally making noise.

I hate when people use the psalm to say,
“our bodies are wonderfully made,”
but they don't teach us that our minds
are made wonderfully as well

I am fearfully made but I am fearful
for I have been taught through this teaching
that my body was made more wonderfully than my mind

night just wants some sun and the sun wants to sleep
but neither can get either with being alone every week.
some people sleep all alone every night
and that's what scares me to death.
am I one of these fools,
or can I follow these rules.
and that's why I'm so scared of my bed.
the monsters in the closet are just my memory's in deposit.
so I can sleep like the rest of the dead.
i know i'm not one
to laugh or complain
but weirdly my pain,
is the only thing
that wants to keep me sane.
for better or worse, we all have a Cain.
who would stick us in the heart.
if only he could remain.