We are free souls.
We are free spirits, yet
we are waiting
for someone to show us the
way.

We are pure,
we are unique.

We are strong.

We are beautiful.

We are the ones that decide our destinies.

Nor illness, nor hurt, nor death can stop us.

We are light,
we are energy.

We are souls, inside bodies.

But we,
we are not trapped.

We are not prisoners.
We don't need help.

We are more than we think.
We are
free
souls.

I've had three, four, five first loves because each time it's a little different. I'll never know what it's supposed to feel like and it stops me from continuing. This song was playing during a *** scene, the red lights reflecting off of her face while she leaned in, showing the emotion that had been stuck between her gritted teeth.

I want to wake up, I want my body to grow old and I want to stop being so tired. I feel the most at home when I am alone so it's okay that I haven't seen you in days. I'm worried about myself. I'm worried about myself.

Standing up is boring. I write about this feeling every time but yet I've yet to find a word to describe it. There is something about the placidity at 4 am that has me drinking orange juice on my porch watching the sun come up each one of these nights, in a row, like a pattern. My body needs to stretch, needs to grow, I can't be restricted to locking my knees and standing in place. I can't be restricted.

We will dance on our way to heaven, and I will never be afraid again.

When I was young so long ago,
Threatened I was; though I didn't know,
My parents feared as to my fate-
Afraid that the doctors would be too late.

And the doctors did all that they could,
For the fear of my parents they understood,
They opened my skull and saw the mass-
Knowing that they had to move fast.

Many at the time thought those efforts to be in vain,
For my life this tumor continued to drain,
But those doctor's efforts weren't destined to be lost-
For God had not let my death be the cost.

To show I understand what it is you're going through,
I've brought this message of encouragement for you,
For Christmas is the time of giving: as God's done-
And I do hope this will bring joy to everyone.

Who am I?
Someone tell me because I don't know, all I know is that I'm scared of myself and hurting. I don't like the way I'm turning. I hate myself and can feel the burning. I'm not infuriated I'm just sad. I'm a sad shell of a person who lost themself in someone else; something else. What did I ever really want? When did I change and why? Who am I? Someone tell me because I don't recognize who's looking back at me in the mirror. What I see is a whirlpool full of my deepest fears.

Could a song touch me?
Run its fingers
the length of my soul?

In truth it makes me wary
Of the power it holds:
To morph my mind is to
Morph my soul.

People, they touch me.
People are souls.
Souls cry out with life,
You might say they sing.

A song, a person, a soul?
Same thing.