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"brokeness" poems
my keyboard is broken like me so some leer will be missing hoefllly yo can ndersand i'm broken and like my keyboard i'm missing things which i can be cant be wihot if yo can ndersand this then maybe yor broken o becase yo ndersand my brokeness which is more then i ca say abot alot of eole
0
Sep 25, 2016
Sep 25, 2016 at 9:41 AM UTC
broken keyboard
can you just **** my brains out and pretend to love me? I'd greatly appreciate the distraction the feeling of being wanted your affection DEVOUR ME PLEASE make me feel anything anything but this brokeness this twisted **** do anything you want to me just need me need me need me need me **** the pain away till I'm numb till I bleed till words ceast to exist cause I can't stand these thoughts **** me into oblivion I don't want to care anymore I don't care anymore
0
Oct 14, 2012
Oct 14, 2012 at 4:57 PM UTC
**** me
As I look around, What I see are the Fragments of Man ! Some quite Large, Some very tiny! Some as Ripped off, Others as carefully Taken and placed down. Some I recognize as Hearts, others appear as Spirit forms. What is common is that some seek sympathy and attention! Others, as if an Enticement, want you to join them. Each think they have made an offering, That either asks for help OR cries out that You become as them! Amazingly, the crowds around them, seem to debate as to which path they should choose. ONLY a Handful, Promptly turn their backs and RUSH away ! BUT, the Majority sifts thru the SHARDS, as if shopping at a Flea Market. Going from Table to Table to Sample the Wares! No one Cries out that they be "Taken Away" from the pieces of SHARDS Scattered all about them ! RATHER, they ask that YOU Mix in some of Yours and set up a Table ,,Right Next to them ! ______ MY Heart pounds a stronger RHYTHM, My mind racing in questions, Can't they see The're accepting all these broken lives as if it should Be the NORM ? None wants to stand out as His Own, Fearful that they would be left alone and WHIMS desires would be left in the cleaning closet ~having to wait for use~so~they sleep in a Brokeness Slumber! As I leave this "Fixed In My Mind" SCENE. I reach down and pick up a Small SHARD, appearing to be part of One's Soul,, Something I "WILL" be Praying about . . . .
0
Feb 4, 2011
Feb 4, 2011 at 3:59 AM UTC
* " SHARDS OF LIFE " * ( # 52 )
i sometimes wonder why you still visit my mood swings, left in abandoned playgrounds between my chest. why you still visit even though the slides may only carry you down to somebody like me. somebody difficult to love, somebody who cannot tell the difference between crying and laughing anymore. why you haven't left this soul, who's bones can't seem to find enough strength to push my side of the sea saw, who can't seem to move past three poles on the monkey bar, simply because of the weight on top of my shoulders. this flesh of complete brokeness that couldn't bare ringa ring rosie, because at some point one gets tired of always falling. i often wonder, why me. why me, with all my chipped paint and countless dents. why you still visit, when this isn't the grass on other side that's greener. because God knows, i'd understand if you look for a park elsewhere. a park worthy of you.
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Dec 19, 2015
Dec 19, 2015 at 5:41 PM UTC
playground visits
My stomach rolls at the thought of you, it is a feeling as pleasant as you are- You with your sharp eyes and upturned nose, you who has no flaw. A man named Frankenstein made something much like you; a creature so perfect -and yet, when it rose, ghastly and disfigured there was some beauty in it. You- you are no such creature you are a hollowed shell void of love and understanding. You have not known rejection, loss       self-loathing and to see my brokeness was a shock. To watch me crumble appalled you, -you turned away and rejected me as the creator - the created. Though my heart is fashioned of borrowed and broken pieces I am not your monster. I raised myself from the dead -and after you- from the dirt. You- you my dear doctor; parading the flaws of others as a grotesque banner -it screams: "I am perfect" Was I more satisfying to break? Did my will to fight terrify, inspire such hatred, that you could no longer stand the sight of a girl set ablaze? My stomach lurches - you stand at my grave dear Frankenstein, do you regret? She is not there. She died. It is only I who remain
0
Mar 5, 2019
Mar 5, 2019 at 7:28 AM UTC
Dear Frankenstein
**Dark Circles beneath her eyes The fire in those eyes now replaced by sadness of knowing too much Of trying too hard** . . *the more she saw, the less she knew the more she tried, the less things worked* She kept restlessly brooding why the world is so raNdom and what if the littlest thing that she did made it fall apart? . . tick-tock (Restless brooding) A girl of 17 never felt safe in her own skin She comes in all the shades of self-loathing (Restless brooding) Living a life of mediocrity Good, but never the best not worth the change in your pocket. (Restless brooding) Centre of the group, her smile was just that contagious Chased by many, understood by none Always loved mystery, maybe that's why she became one (Restless brooding) Red is the color of rust that calms her Jagged cut across her thighs She comes with a self-destruct button and hence pushes away the very thing she likes she wants to decrease the casualities (Restless brooding) Sleep won't come easily to her so she writes and reads that's pretty much her life by the window she cries for the characters whose brokeness resembles her life but if you ask her why she'll evade vaguely (Restless brooding) She increases the volume of her headphones to mute the voices in her head voices which try to drag her to the past a past she'll never get rid of (Restless brooding) with every second that passes by she pushes the world a little more far away but she always smiles so that must mean she's okay, right? Dark circle beaneath her eyes because *she spends her night talking to the stars and conspiring with the moon against the demons she herself has created trying to find the key to the lock she has chained around herself* And one day she will one day she will realise *her light can't be contained and those dim eyes will shine again One day she will not be afraid of being herself even if she does not know who she is yet*
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Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 1:22 AM UTC
**Have you seen this girl**?
**Dark Circles beneath her eyes The fire in those eyes now replaced by sadness of knowing too much Of trying too hard** . . *the more she saw, the less she knew the more she tried, the less things worked* She kept restlessly brooding why the world is so raNdom and what if the littlest thing that she did made it fall apart? . . tick-tock (Restless brooding) A girl of 17 never felt safe in her own skin She comes in all the shades of self-loathing (Restless brooding) Living a life of mediocrity Good, but never the best not worth the change in your pocket. (Restless brooding) Centre of the group, her smile was just that contagious Chased by many, understood by none Always loved mystery, maybe that's why she became one (Restless brooding) Red is the color of rust that calms her Jagged cut across her thighs She comes with a self-destruct button and hence pushes away the very thing she likes she wants to decrease the casualities (Restless brooding) Sleep won't come easily to her so she writes and reads that's pretty much her life by the window she cries for the characters whose brokeness resembles her life but if you ask her why she'll evade vaguely (Restless brooding) She increases the volume of her headphones to mute the voices in her head voices which try to drag her to the past a past she'll never get rid of (Restless brooding) with every second that passes by she pushes the world a little more far away but she always smiles so that must mean she's okay, right? Dark circle beaneath her eyes because *she spends her night talking to the stars and conspiring with the moon against the demons she herself has created trying to find the key to the lock she has chained around herself* And one day she will one day she will realise *her light can't be contained and those dim eyes will shine again One day she will not be afraid of being herself even if she does not know who she is yet*
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68
It feels like I've been endlessly cutting my wrist, 'cause of my negligence to tend to my wounds. The very wounds that bleed these words and agony. Now as my pride gives me immortality, this brokeness is my eternal damnation, an endless torture, a neverending attempt for suicide with no death.
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Jul 8, 2021
Jul 8, 2021 at 3:11 AM UTC
Poetic suicide
A litre of hot tears fall from angry eyes.. But never it reduces the fire inside of me.... If the heavy falling rain could fight the forest fire... Why couldnt my tears do just the same...? Just because I come out strong, doesnt mean there is nothing wrong. Smiling has always been easier to fake... Rather than to explain the Burn in 0ne's Heart ??? Every tear is a sign of brokeness, every silence is a sign of loneliness, I always smile and shed a secret tear... Wishing it heals my internal scars... I went in the rain and i walked in the dark... Who says water helps in putting of fire? My eyes do not show anymore tears may be.. But in my heart is heavy downpour.... How come the fire is there .. its still there... Its the fire burning inside of me ... its burning.. burning hot.. I wish each drop of salty tear would erase the flame.... For I promise myself would never to cry again..... Would it be worth to shed a tear of mine ever again? Each drop of a tear is precious ...then anything in the world No one knows its true value for they ‘ve not learnt the pain... I hide a tear and pretend to smile... My body is trembling my heart is burning... ..... You wouldn't know how it feels... To have to hide a tear.... Not until you have it in your own eyes for someone so dear..
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Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 5:26 PM UTC
A Silent Tear
With you, I feel like my brokeness wears a disguised mask, it doesn’t protrude out like splinters and spears right through my rib cage where thorn ladden tendrils grow, with everyone else. With you, I feel less broken. Maybe even whole again. Like I used to be.
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Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 12:45 AM UTC
Excalibur Elixir, You.
I laid on my bedroom floor and sunk my face into my elbow. There was nothing. No sound. No movement. There was Blackness. I was engulfed, I did not feel my heart and I did not feel my lungs. Time went on, unscathed, but I remained in the Black. I do not know anything. I do not know who came in my room. I do not know what they said. I do not know what I said. The jarring crash of a constant sound kept pulling me away. Every labored second time bore forth, I was unaware. I had gone somewhere so far that I was nowhere. The dust lined the back of my throat. Then I knew everything. I desperately wandered around looking for the Black. I had no provision but the Black. I had been unaware. Perfectly unaware. But I could not find the Black. So I was aware: no salt ever was so tasteless, no liquid was ever so dry. No pain was ever so miniscule, no mucus was ever so breathable. No, there was nothing. Not in the Black.This prejection of perfection, I could not emulate. I close my eyes and there was black. It had ears, a mout, eyes, a nose, and touch. There was a pit in the middle of my soul, somewhere between the bottom of my rib cage and my pants. I tried to find the Black there, but it was gone. Instead there was grinding and crashing. There was color. There was noise. I was refusing to really acknowledge it. There was aching and burning; there was pressure and banging. There was blue and there were barbells. There was a bed; a Bible and many books. There were bandaids and bottles and bows and bespeckled things. There was a blue monster and blue shirt. There was blue gatorade and black cords, and there was black shoes and black clothes. But there was no Black. There was brokeness and bruises; beige and bumps.There was a bunny and beauty products; a balustrade and a bathroom door. But there was nothing, and with it was no Black.
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Sep 23, 2012
Sep 23, 2012 at 11:48 AM UTC
My Bedroom Floor
I laid on my bedroom floor and sunk my face into my elbow. There was nothing. No sound. No movement. There was Blackness. I was engulfed, I did not feel my heart and I did not feel my lungs. Time went on, unscathed, but I remained in the Black. I do not know anything. I do not know who came in my room. I do not know what they said. I do not know what I said. The jarring crash of a constant sound kept pulling me away. Every labored second time bore forth, I was unaware. I had gone somewhere so far that I was nowhere. The dust lined the back of my throat. Then I knew everything. I desperately wandered around looking for the Black. I had no provision but the Black. I had been unaware. Perfectly unaware. But I could not find the Black. So I was aware: no salt ever was so tasteless, no liquid was ever so dry. No pain was ever so miniscule, no mucus was ever so breathable. No, there was nothing. Not in the Black.This prejection of perfection, I could not emulate. I close my eyes and there was black. It had ears, a mout, eyes, a nose, and touch. There was a pit in the middle of my soul, somewhere between the bottom of my rib cage and my pants. I tried to find the Black there, but it was gone. Instead there was grinding and crashing. There was color. There was noise. I was refusing to really acknowledge it. There was aching and burning; there was pressure and banging. There was blue and there were barbells. There was a bed; a Bible and many books. There were bandaids and bottles and bows and bespeckled things. There was a blue monster and blue shirt. There was blue gatorade and black cords, and there was black shoes and black clothes. But there was no Black. There was brokeness and bruises; beige and bumps.There was a bunny and beauty products; a balustrade and a bathroom door. But there was nothing, and with it was no Black.
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1
Heart achess body weakss soul laments mind melos never thought it could be this way thought we could be more than friends never believed in the hands of time our separation lies never believed my deception was from within never believed in pretence feelings are given thought we were real than shadows could tell out of soft gaze cometh thee that leads the heart to where it brokeness lie in thy soft gaze i am enspelled satto voce i whispered your name what has time done unto me? My desire has distance denied if distance were not my foes if time were not my hurdles what fate would have known my name? What song would you have sang with me? Would you have taught me the song which the sons of pleasures sing? Would the sound of my name be heard from thy voice? In seeking for love would you have ran to me???
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Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 11:01 AM UTC
Gentle Hurt
You're the muse behind my every song You're what connects this body to its soul The darkest of nights find its dawn in you You are the eye of the most ferocious storm Oh, love i think it's time Oh, love, won't you be mine? Oh, love, can't you just see I want the world to see you be with me You're the goosebumps i get in the middle of the night You're what the stars have been telling me about The shyest of flowers bloom at your touch You are the hope that keeps the fragile thread  by which my sanity hangs from breaking apart Oh love, I think it's time Oh, love won't you be mine Oh, love, can't you just see I want the world to see you be with me You are the brokeness that heals itself You are the words that i have been looking for all along The most endurable concrete cracks and sprouts where you walk You are the love that only results from a great deal of suffering Oh love, I think i it's time Oh, love won't you be mine Oh, love, can't you just see I want the world to see you be with me
0
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 8:22 AM UTC
Oh, Love
1. did she make a home in the spaces between your ribs too? 2. i have still have your sweatshirt. it doesnt smell like you anymore. its okay though, i smell it every time i dream. 3. i miss looking in your eyes and seeing the galaxy. 4. they say you get a new layer of skin every 7 years and i cant wait to have skin you havent touched. 5. i miss you. i ******* hate you but i miss you. 6. i still have bruises, they just arent surface level anymore. 7. do you ever think of me anymore? today i saw a sweater that i'd know you'd love. i wonder if its the same for you. 8. i hope someone hurts you like you hurt me. karma is a ***** after all 9. you're so broken but so am i. we could of took our pain and made it into something beautiful, a mosaic of brokeness. 10. today i smiled and my eyes smiled too and its the beginning of finally moving on from you.
0
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 9:35 AM UTC
texts i never sent
Take a look, A good look, And tell me what you see... What DO you see when you look at me? Do you see beauty? Do you see intelligence? Do you see hope? What Do you see? Take a look at me, I bet you don't truly see me, The person I try not to be, Do you see? See the scars on my wrist, See the brokeness of my heart, See the fear in my eyes, Do you see? See the hurt that's left behind, From years passed, To years to come, Look at me. See me for who I truly am, Because who I am... Is a fighter, And a warrior. I fight everyday, To keep from what people say, I fight to keep myself here, I fight to live another day. I fight the urge to cut, To over dose, To drink, To smoke. I'm a warrior, I have been through hell, Breaking inside, A little each day. I've fought for escape, I've fought for love, I've fought for forgiveness, I've fought for understanding. So look at me, And tell me, What do you see? Do you see the real me?
0
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 12:31 AM UTC
Look at me
Reached the tipping point No medicine can fix me Broken too badly
0
Jul 4, 2019
Jul 4, 2019 at 4:48 AM UTC
Brokeness (Haiku/Senyru)
There i look there where my help lies there where cometh my hope there where Angels fly there where gold is incomparable to its beauty there where sitted the feary one To the hills where cometh my help ............There i look.............. And when all of my strenght is gone and when there be no help from man and when all melodies are gone and when loneliness my companion and when men rejects me and when i cannot cope from there cometh my hope from there i here a new song from there my strenght is renewed from there my loneliness is taking away to the hill where cometh my help ............There i look............. When sorrows abounds when brokeness my companion when pains ravages the walls of my heart when i am persecuted for the things i most embrace ............There i look............ There where my help lies there where cometh my hope there where Angels fly there where gold is incomparable to its beauty To the hills where cometh my help ..........There i look............
0
Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 10:47 AM UTC
To the Hills
I know they say when one door closes another opens But I'm forcing gravity down with the weight of my regrets I refuse to let the door that allowed you into my heart to close You say I'm not pretty So I broke every mirror in my house To keep from seeing the reflection of a used up depressed teenager Because who would want a girl with so much brokeness
0
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 6:55 PM UTC
6:52 PM
I want to turn back the hands of time ****** the founding fathers of pain Let her dream dreams the induce diabetes Remove the scars that never fade Mend the brokeness in every heart I just dont want to see her feel pain Or see the tears in her eyes She is too young for this How do you expect her to survive In a world intent on killing her I want to turn back the hands of time ****** the founding fathers of heartbreak To keep her alive To keep her head up high And look at the world In an optimistic way I am tired of her tears The constant fear That she will amount to nothing She wonders if she is enough She hopes for a friend With outstretched arms of comfort With shoulders soft but strong So she can find sanctuary and solace I want to turn back the hands of time ****** the founding fathers of hope Because every night she hopes That in the morning her sorrow will be gone She hopes for that knight in shining armor To take her far beyond the castle walls To break the shackles of poverty Guide her into the land of the prosperity Heal the wounds that still bleed Her hopes are what **** her everyday Does no one care Can anyone but me see That her pain, her broken heart, her hopes Have been slowly killing her For quite some time now Somebody help her Somebody save her I cant do it I am not strong enough No prince charming Im just trying to find a way To turn back the hands of time And ****** the founding fathers Of everything that has been the reason She contemplates suicide every night Because I love her Not romantically But in a way not many could understand
0
Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 7:45 PM UTC
I Want To Turn Back The Hands Of Time
I want to turn back the hands of time ****** the founding fathers of pain Let her dream dreams the induce diabetes Remove the scars that never fade Mend the brokeness in every heart I just dont want to see her feel pain Or see the tears in her eyes She is too young for this How do you expect her to survive In a world intent on killing her I want to turn back the hands of time ****** the founding fathers of heartbreak To keep her alive To keep her head up high And look at the world In an optimistic way I am tired of her tears The constant fear That she will amount to nothing She wonders if she is enough She hopes for a friend With outstretched arms of comfort With shoulders soft but strong So she can find sanctuary and solace I want to turn back the hands of time ****** the founding fathers of hope Because every night she hopes That in the morning her sorrow will be gone She hopes for that knight in shining armor To take her far beyond the castle walls To break the shackles of poverty Guide her into the land of the prosperity Heal the wounds that still bleed Her hopes are what **** her everyday Does no one care Can anyone but me see That her pain, her broken heart, her hopes Have been slowly killing her For quite some time now Somebody help her Somebody save her I cant do it I am not strong enough No prince charming Im just trying to find a way To turn back the hands of time And ****** the founding fathers Of everything that has been the reason She contemplates suicide every night Because I love her Not romantically But in a way not many could understand
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52
*upon being invited to add to a collection here called Brokenness ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ He he ** ** Ha ha it has been awhile that I recv'd an invitation to add to anything or join a club, just like Groucho (Marx) worth being invited to... but when yours arrived, I chuckled and jived, for this broken biz be an area of expertise, about which I gladly can opine, since most of which I contact, is inevitably in that state demised, marriage, children and other trifles so to the topic at hand, let say but this, if not eloquently, then perhaps, gravely, for that is where the broken pieces oft call home or cemetarily. a final resting place... perhaps you were unaware, there are 449 poems in attendance, where the word brokenness doth appear in this sanctuary of broken children and adults too, easy discovered in the memory of Hello Poetry but this will not be, I hope, the four hundred and fiftieth as I decided to nomenclature this oeuvre as Brokeness, with but a single N, since a good N can be hard to find, why use two when one will do? if a faithful ecrivant thee be, you won't be shocked that there are so many Brokenness in this world, the dictionary doth recognize its multiplicity as a word legit, accepting as a plurality* brokennesses! which is a whole lot of broke so let us poets to the process repair, with a tikkun here, a tikkun there, a tikkun everywhere so that the healing never ends and that someday we will delete all words of humanity in disrepair, let the broken be the unbroken, and let's all say amen and get started... Ogdiddynash
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Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 1:44 PM UTC
Brokeness
*upon being invited to add to a collection here called Brokenness ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ He he ** ** Ha ha it has been awhile that I recv'd an invitation to add to anything or join a club, just like Groucho (Marx) worth being invited to... but when yours arrived, I chuckled and jived, for this broken biz be an area of expertise, about which I gladly can opine, since most of which I contact, is inevitably in that state demised, marriage, children and other trifles so to the topic at hand, let say but this, if not eloquently, then perhaps, gravely, for that is where the broken pieces oft call home or cemetarily. a final resting place... perhaps you were unaware, there are 449 poems in attendance, where the word brokenness doth appear in this sanctuary of broken children and adults too, easy discovered in the memory of Hello Poetry but this will not be, I hope, the four hundred and fiftieth as I decided to nomenclature this oeuvre as Brokeness, with but a single N, since a good N can be hard to find, why use two when one will do? if a faithful ecrivant thee be, you won't be shocked that there are so many Brokenness in this world, the dictionary doth recognize its multiplicity as a word legit, accepting as a plurality* brokennesses! which is a whole lot of broke so let us poets to the process repair, with a tikkun here, a tikkun there, a tikkun everywhere so that the healing never ends and that someday we will delete all words of humanity in disrepair, let the broken be the unbroken, and let's all say amen and get started... Ogdiddynash
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57
Raw Love. One day I know, love like ours will grow that one day will be real soon, under that cheery moon~ Full Moon and me Kisses the woman in me don't you see In the moon where you rise Dancing in the Velvet devise~ You will hold me and make it right all the brokeness will fit together... and stick Dream thoughts of you In that magic wrought of thee Heart aches searches behold Enmeshed within you and me~ Echoes of emptiness was in my soul Crying for your love in one more light Windless moons more to come and control The sight in the breeze of the moon bright nights~ Without you I will die Like All is dead within the moon I cry and cry within your site Holding me within your might~ Kisses I will always remember Touches I am told Will be to much to behold The moon so full of heartaches and so bold~ Love me, I beg once more Let the moon shine so bright And let the love be this night Passion of love and moon delight My darling, hold me with all your might and make my pieces stick together in our raw love and make it better.~ Debbie
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Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 8:49 PM UTC
Raw Love
This is how forever starts. Eight-letter word, poisoned goodbyes. Fabricated stories of promises, concealed truth-- Pure lies. I tasted death, hot and raw, On my lips. Sipping more, letting the venom creeps. Deep. Down. Deep. Dark becomes darker now. Squeezing sounds of muscles coming faster in the background. Undeniable pain, I scream. Swiftly losing sane, A traumatic dream. Alone. With no one to find me. To save me, I  know, No one will dare. Time hanging is lifeless. Naked, with only hopelessness. A picture of creature so worthless. Yet, from somewhere You came and found me. My day is doomed, but You set me apart. My bondages, brokeness, mistakes and awful past. You paid it all when You shed Your blood. A selfless love.
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Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 1:17 PM UTC
Back to Life
BROKEN is not a term of endearment Rather it is used to deter Don't buy that it's BROKEN Something's wrong with her she's BROKEN BROKEN is a term for things and not people It conveys a need to be fixed Our scars and bruises have made is whole We aren't BROKEN, but reborn through every pain, every loss, and every trial. We have learned through our BROKENess that others struggle too and maybe we can see that if everyone is BROKEN Perhaps the word BROKEN can mean something new. Maybe EDUCATED, WISE, STEADFAST, and LEARNED. Could it be STRONGER or FIERCE are the words that we've earned. Whatever your word live it out in embrace. Leave that BROKEN word lonely far away with no trace.
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May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 5:23 PM UTC
broken
When Im feeling like a Neglected Soul The Presence Of The Most High Becomes Increasingly Mighty and Bold. The Holy Spirit becomes So Strong that  My Flesh is overthrown and it knocks me Out cold. I'm no longer in Control. The Messiah Overtakes and has a hold. Upon entering into a Stillness And Engaging at the Beauty of such realness I can hear and feel this..... Pure Silence, Peace and quiet. Encountering this blissful moment in private. In this place of dwelling Here,  His grace and mercy is never failing Here, His Unconditional Love abides A place where Only God Resides. A spiritual Realm where in your loving arms is the Only place I can be found Where I can leave behind the world and worries and enter into The Great escape. In your spiritual agape, You My potter, mold me into shape. This is a place that is hidden Beyond Earth in another dimision Even with my eyes Closed He still gives me vision. A place where I'm drifting thru time and gracefully floating space. This is our secret Place. The place where I am safe and secure. Now realizing All the Things I had to endure was for my personal growth so I could Mature. Dimishing my mind and heart of the stress Casting all my cares upon you in Exchange for my Rest. You took away my brokeness in exchange for soulfulness and wholesomeness. Surely I am Blessed. Happily, I give you Gratitude and Thankfulness! Yahweh Is The Best.
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Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 5:25 PM UTC
The Place....
I saw her crying before, It was beautiful. She was pleading for her child. Intercessing for her to come back into the Master's arms. There, there she goes again. Pouring her heart out onto the Master's ear. He loves the purity of her brokeness, The fine quality of her pain. Under the glades of the Master's gardens she knelt and pleaded once more. She held in her arms one of her daughters who swam in the Sea of Flesh only to surface out and bear another. She reached out her hand "Come, child. No use chasing after the flesh made of muscle and blood. Come child, come join your mother." Her child reached the surface, drenched in regret. The days were filled with hope or the lack thereof. She was lured by the pleasures of the seas, hiding under the guise of love. But amidst all that, all Mother had for her was a blanket of warm compassion. Dismissing hot cups of condemnation everyone else had to offer. And she embraced her. Back in the Master's garden she gave all her troubles at the foot of the Master's tree and stood up relieved of burden. She faces another day, welcoming doubters and the troubled with arms wide open. Then again she lays it down on the foot of the Master's tree, for lives kept from ruin, for hearts not to harden. I saw her crying before, and there she comes again. Together we sat and plead before our Master's feet. Running in wounded, rising up healed. I saw her crying before, it was beautiful. I saw how she plead for herself, purging and redemption. The world tried to take her out, but she only came back stronger every single time. If you saw her crying then, it'll break you. She was torn and it was dreadful. But from nothing she went up from glory to glory. I saw her crying again, it was beautiful.
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Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 4:07 PM UTC
Mother and the Master's Tree
I saw her crying before, It was beautiful. She was pleading for her child. Intercessing for her to come back into the Master's arms. There, there she goes again. Pouring her heart out onto the Master's ear. He loves the purity of her brokeness, The fine quality of her pain. Under the glades of the Master's gardens she knelt and pleaded once more. She held in her arms one of her daughters who swam in the Sea of Flesh only to surface out and bear another. She reached out her hand "Come, child. No use chasing after the flesh made of muscle and blood. Come child, come join your mother." Her child reached the surface, drenched in regret. The days were filled with hope or the lack thereof. She was lured by the pleasures of the seas, hiding under the guise of love. But amidst all that, all Mother had for her was a blanket of warm compassion. Dismissing hot cups of condemnation everyone else had to offer. And she embraced her. Back in the Master's garden she gave all her troubles at the foot of the Master's tree and stood up relieved of burden. She faces another day, welcoming doubters and the troubled with arms wide open. Then again she lays it down on the foot of the Master's tree, for lives kept from ruin, for hearts not to harden. I saw her crying before, and there she comes again. Together we sat and plead before our Master's feet. Running in wounded, rising up healed. I saw her crying before, it was beautiful. I saw how she plead for herself, purging and redemption. The world tried to take her out, but she only came back stronger every single time. If you saw her crying then, it'll break you. She was torn and it was dreadful. But from nothing she went up from glory to glory. I saw her crying again, it was beautiful.
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Maybe im not as healed as i thought i was anger wells up inside of me as i ease through my memories that i have so longingly tried to erase denial and shame have driven me away "they loved me, so they wouldn't hurt me" is what i used to so innocently feel but now i dig for meaning of my past and i see what is real the brokeness was all around me those who hurt me were hurting too only a band-aid could cover the pain temporarily but then its ripped off with every scorn or reality that is spit at me "how am i supposed too help others if i cant help myself" is what i think now am i pitying myself am i being sensitive like i have always been i feel that nobody understands neither do i i cant escape the pain, anger, and shame i hold inside
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Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 9:34 PM UTC
i hold inside