I have faith. I believe one day I'll open my eyes and everything will be alright. It was set, within my parents eyes...that hope Isn't for the hopeless, but for the realest who carries optimism within them.

I admit it, it's hard to imagine another enduring pain and agony the way I do...because I sank them deep. No one heard me cry, no one heard me scream, the strength I have awoken each day just for a smile.

Because like the wise...we know, worrying ends when true faith begins. I'd laugh, today I'll sing exhaulting the woman I've become and smile for all the monsters I've once been.

See, this is why I have faith... I've been slaughtered by the hands I've held, by the bodies I've laid beside but I chose to fight for my life, refusing to fall, refusing to let them have me dead.

They murdered me once, but that was then. I put myself out there on the precipice of eternal pain...I didn't stand a chance. They took my years, lied in my face and whisper sweet poison in my ears.

...But thanks to them, thanks to faith. I've become fierce, I'm no longer afraid. Today I said goodbye to hurt, goodbye to pain, goodbye to heartbeak. I know one day I'll find my murderers and looked them in the face and thank them with grace.

S.B

Mama said I was a miracle from the Lord above,
Conceived from a soft embrace, gentleness, and love.
Tied between two intact heartstrings,
I was their perfect little epitome of everything.
There I was, held together at the wishing well,
Brought down from heaven, but born in hell
Unto the stranger things in life that we look back on with strife
Painting a pretty portrait of treachery, capturing the misery
And surrounded by the impurest mysteries,
This is I, Mommy’s miracle and Daddy’s distaste,
A spiral down the wrong path and pathetic human waste,
My life left in a shattered mess
Since this “miracle” was labeled a child of darkness.

light; a process
you are nothing more than a cell in the ocean
a single drop makes you a canyon
so **** the schizophrenic gods
after you've been deprived for so long
your brain starts to make things up
because once the nothingness becomes tangible
it ceases to exist

You show up
and nothing else matters
here with you settled down
in the calm of morning garden
the sun is sitting beautifully
in this very roof.

We are the dream
that never ends
flowers in my hand
arms embracing me
and I've never wanted
to kiss you more in my life.

They say everything
that's in front of you
leads you home
but you're here just behind me
and I don't want to go
anywhere else.

All thoughts are individual. It is impossible to take the energy and apparatus to which that energy is transferred through to develop a thought. Therefore no knowledge is taken, all is perceived to wit a schematic and the apparatus developed by our brains to develop the thought. The thought is then subjected to the body and undergoes scrutiny to provide a relevance, priority and application. Therefore it would be safe to assume that all knowledge is neither subjective nor objective but an entirely new word that could exemplify itself as "Understood as developed by ones own." Where I got this schematic for this idea was in counterance to the percieved robbing of thoughts and ideas from books and ideas. Would it be proper to call it the same thought? No. Would it be proper to call it a reaction? Only in the most mechanical of senses that is cause following effect.
This idea would be to liken to a computer having a file copied from one machine to another, while the content remains the same in its physical interpretation on the screen would completely change. As if being opened by two seperate programs. And we are not talking about the files being the same when we talk about ideas, ideas are consequences of what is perceived therefore consequences of the that is copied. Ideas are the effect and in their way, an individual interpretation by how the schematic of an idea is followed by what is transferred.
This idea in itself makes up for the massive hurdle that is misunderstanding between two people, each hearing fundamentally the same things while producing two differing ideas. In summation, an idea is a scrutinized original built on the schematic of that which is perceived and is each independent of a person and their surroundings.