take me to the fountain of blessings
the one you have in your tiny heart
wash all my sins with the water
then take me by hand
and heal my heart with your touch
but don't leave me behind
in the forest of lies
cause you're all i've ever had

Sometimes I just wanna give in because of the pain consumed by life it self, draining all the little bit of energy that's left in it. Trying to force myself to understand why? Is there a reason why the way we feel when danger comes near unexpectedly without warning; then we're back to piece together the shatter window that was perfectly place before it was brought down without warning. People may never understand what you are going through nor care by giving sympathy and compassion when needed most that god has taught. A wounded heart takes time to heal, expectually when you're alone. But lord him self is there and all I can do is pray and take one day at a time" .

And so the elements did wage bloodshed
upon the realms, and the natural world bled
in numbers. Obsidian did dredge seeping
upon natures frail innocence. And weeping
in sorrow as life was entombed beneath.
Its tears of ash sealed eternally underneath.

Cinders were bathed in heavens truthful tears
As the each contended with elemental  affairs.
Oak did lumber forward to entangle all within
roots, as the heavens screamed on soils sin.
Wood did splinter, shards impaling friend
and foe, collateral damage as anarchy did descend.

The earth bellowed as the onslaught of force
did disjoin the soil. A champion would endorse
the others right of battle, blades did clash
as such impacts did render all near by to ash.
brimstone against the clarity of diamond shards
As no ground was won as blows befell within yards.

Fighting still mummers as elements do now crusade
In natural form. Allegiances do switch others made,
Scars still do heal even though such a long time ago,
when lightning strikes a oak, know they are still foe.

the  truth  hurts* ,
                                  But it doesn't  **** ,
                                                               ­          however it  saddens

                                      ~Without noticin' it~

the  lies  pleases ,
                                    But it doesn't  heal,
                                                  ­                            however it  gladdens

                                            *~Without noticin' it~

She was the one who waited for solitude
To fall apart
To give a million chances
To everyone who broke her heart
She was the one
Who hid her pain;
Who wanted to heal others' fears
Rather than showing her tears
She was one
Who kept everyone in her prayers
Who loved everyone in spite of all the betrayals
She was the one
Who burnt herself
To cease your darkness
The star who'd fall down
So that you could make a wish
Yet,
She was the one
Always walked upon
She was the one
Who kissed the wounds
And healed every soul
However, she never learnt
How to heal her own

the thorns in my throat
are hard to maintain
it needs to be known
that I am in pain
its my turn to speak
on just how I feel
its very hard to say
but I need to heal

Trying to be kind,
You ask me how I'm doing.

Baby, please stop
Talking to my heart.

You mean for your words to
Heal it

But they only
Tear it apart.

"You were born to do this."
I reminded myself as I sat there feeling encaged in a flurry of endless thought and emotion.
"Why do I have to feel every aspect of every event of life, so deep?"
I thought as I fought myself once again to simply pick up the pen and drain the overflow of despondency onto paper.
"Breathe."
The words, letters, verbs and thoughts continued to swirl in my ever rampantly unsettled abyss of ideation.
Once I surrendered to the raging of the erupting of the soul..there was calm.
It's likened to the deaf..taken away their ability to sign..The dancer with both feet removed.
Had I no other pleasure but to expel grief, fervor and elation and form them into words to heal the shattering so entrenched..they appear unreachable..I'd beg to be buried with just a writing utensil and endless reams of freshly pressed paper.
"Theres Light."*
I mouth that..as I continue to jot as if I were stitching my heart back together with this pen.
Even though I'm within this seemingly grave like cave of aching..I can write.
The beauty is in the creation..The ability to construct, like a carpenter..all that your heart desires with your own two hands..to simply Heal the paragraphs of life that were written badly, write over them or erase and rewrite..if only it were that easy.
I don't aim to undo..I cannot.
Just to poetically fabricate from this point on..allow the stumbles to happen and Love greater than thought fathomable.
Surrender. To the page.
Scribble it out, empty it onto line after line..and crawl atop..until the words fill the fragments and the ink stains your fingertips..Keep climbing upon the proverbial stacks of paper until the towers reach the aperture of the pit.
Creating the mending of affliction, soothing the misery of the choking of words you cannot utter, but you can scratch them onto tablets to deplete the churning of the mind.
Write. Write badly.
Write as if in a mad race to the finish line, then start over again..Until the trails of Letters stretch so long..you could dance upon them for days.
Then Breathe.
Soak every word into your skin as if attempting to heal the afflictions..
then Become it.