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She screamed her lover's name
begging Him to set her free,
Oh and Jesus took her home when He heard her call.
Smoke and fire
and ash and tears they disappeared for Joan.
The fire raged to find another living home.

It found it's home inside of me
Oh but the flames have learned  to not be seen
And I call His name to  rescue me
             but
                  He
                     doesn't hear me.

What if I 'd had a vision
Led an army off to war
Would you list to my cries then
Would you settle up the score?

See I'm just woman
Nothing beautiful to see
Jesus tell me what the difference is
between Joan of Arc
and
me.
I find and lose my faith over and over. She burned and fire consumed her, my fire is inside. It's taking my life slowly. Her last word was "Jesus" and he set her free. I cry out but he doesn't hear me, that's the difference.
No music fills my tortured soul
As fire makes his move.
He wraps me in his pain embrace
and I, I cannot move.

The dance is never ending
Twisting, turning,dizzying now.
I hate my flaming torturous partner
I've tried to leave but don't know how.

Through days and nights the dance goes on
Until he steps away.
Not far enough for me not to burn
Much to close to stay.

And in the end we'll dance this dance
as he consumes my body and soul
All I can say is that I tried,
And death
finally
gave me control.
I suffer from CRPS. The suicide disease. We burn 24/7 the pain never ends. Every moment of my life is dancing in fire.
I used to pray that I’d never be loved by
anyone I couldn’t love back,
but then I remembered how many mountains
I grew strong enough to climb when
you didn’t love me back
and I realized that
there’s no use in praying for
the absence of pain
because it will always find you
whether it be through sunburn or aching silence
and broken bones grow back stronger
so I won’t pray you’ll never get hurt
I’ll pray you clean out the cuts on your
elbows and learn to not pick at
the scabs on your knees
and that you’ll stand up more times
than the wind knocks you down
And that you’ll find ways to appreciate
the circles beneath your eyes, but
still hold onto the hope that one day
you will count your scars and smile because
you are proud of how far you’ve come
and how much you’ve grown, and
you’re not just surviving, you are alive.
written on 2/24/14

— The End —