if tonight's your last
and yesterday's past
intimidates you or
relentlessly accuses you
of the things that
once enchanted you
and you take a slap in the face
you cut to the chase
there's no time to waste
but really you're stuck
you feel out of place
and the rhythm of the sorrow
drags into tomorrow
because you cannot forget
and there is abundant regret
draining from the scars
that you've tried to hide
that you've put aside
and in reality, your soul
IS TIRED
of waiting, of praying
of feeling like it's straying
you breathe, you sleep,
you live as if you
were not dying
you're still trying
TO BE OK
but you are broken and
you cannot cope
and all of your hope
has gone up in smoke
to where has your spirit flown?
LET GO
for the love of God, release
give it to the One you seek
to Him whom your eyes have not seen
in this moment, you are
FREED.

© Melissa Carlson 2015

When love was tired and yourself was free,
The guilt is gone,
The heaviness is gone,
The lies are gone.

When love was tired and yourself was free,
The spark was lost,
The eyes are not dilated,
The heart was exhausted.

When love was tired and yourself was free,
How will you say it was?
How will you say it with less pain?
How will you say the most painful words?
The most painful words,  a lover can hear.
How will you say sorry?
Can you ever forgive me?
How will I say goodbye?
If there is no good in saying those?

When love was tired,
Say goodbye.
Free yourself.
Accept changes.
Then that's the only time,
Yourself was free.

That time being nation's condition worse
For all to exist in yoke motherland seemed
                                                       to be curse
Having country's onus on youths to freed
So swear to intent freedom theirs' mind
                                                               vivid
With full enthusiasm, excitation and zeal
Everyone gone for country's wound to heal
Having all that time the same intent
Anyone who felt country's screaming of
                                        ******* present!

After all this compression, perhaps I am becoming something after all. Crawling away from my potential worth I feel myself writhing my way from between the rocks, taking quick, shallow breaths —learning to breathe again after all this time. Each inhale still feels heavy and constricted, and every exhale still brings a sense of dread for the rise and fall of my chest but I am moving forward. Even relieved, my ribcage is adjusting painfully to the freedom, coping with more lung space; a gift I received from you.

My debt has been paid
Unspeakable crimes, I'm guilty
Still he died for me