We connected...
I trusted her to see me today
It felt like I gave a piece
of my soul away
She's friendly and kind
I really like her style
I think she'll do just fine
I will work on trusting me
More now

There's nothing really to be said.
Even though here you are,
Wondering what's going through my head.
Don't break a sweat because I said what I've already said.
It's the same beat and rhythm that we jam out to everyday.
Except you thought it'd be better to tune it to your liking.
Just sit back,
Relax,
Cause it's a way we live.
Dig?
Cause that's what we've always been about.
Carless and free.
So don't tell me I don't know what you're thinking.

Funny how we think we live and dance the same thing yet we dance all differently on a up or down beat.
Sometimes I feel like I'm jamming with the wrong guy.
Yet he could somehow follow my lines and ties that I've been providing all of y'all since I started to learn how to rhyme in my spare time.  
Truthfully being said, that's a lie.

Its a process slower than I'd like,
much like a young girl learning how to ride her very first bike.

Healing.

I can feel the hope wiggle in my toes,
though my head is still filled with a plague of darkness drowning in my woes.

Healing.

I can't see light at the end of the tunnel just yet,
but I can feel its warmth trying to find my hardened silhoutte,

It's called healing.
The process of new growth after something has been broken down,
much like my spirit beaten to the ground.
But I have to keep pushing,
living for a brighter day.
Hopefully all this will mean something,
even if it means nothing til the next life,
A place where my body and my mind aren't in constant strife.

I've began the healing process,
even if the finish line is still far away.
But all I can do is hope for a brighter day.

I haven't wrote anything original in a while,
(They don't like your rhymes,
They don't like your style)

I can't write with a heart I don't possess,
(They cut open your chest,
You were too obsessed)

Question:

But without these words, the thought would not be complete.
Words are enough to achieve a certain feat.
Verses bring life to complex emotions from stone.
But some emotions are better expressed by words alone.

Answer:

Words may be a brainchild of the senses,
a cousin of shrouded feelings,
a distant lover of hopeful wishes.

But it would always remain in papyrus,
in coffee-stained napkins,
in the whisper of the breeze.

What are compound syllables without action,
without justified reason,
without the process for progress.