There are poems of love I will now never finish

Singing nothings that are now nothingness.

You did this, you killed them, you stole out their flame

Now silence must pay back the debt of this pain.

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Hope

Whoa, what bitterness is this

Whose twisted thoughts have I trekked in?

Surely this darkness isn’t mine,

This want for aching, wasted time

Someday I’ll be solid, healed

Someday the nightmares won’t be there to steal

If the nights are silent, the days reveal

Endless screaming from the ones repealed

Some time night and day alike

Will toss their haunting-juggling storms

Aside

And all the worry and fear I despise

Will finally

Entirely

Subside.

Already won

Pain, impatience

Futile wishes for perfection

Make me less, make me more

I’m sorry this pain cannot be ignored

Your grace is sufficient, make this less

Potent

Please

I feel a wickedness tugging at me inside, a blinding breaking painful light

Will the shadows crawl away and die

Or will they break open and birth more night?

How can I win when I’m fighting sin?

But

You already did.

gap

Sometimes the greatest poetry…

Rage, silent storm;

Is the absence of any.

The quiet, heavy ladled

Only over the story..

Power un-endowed.

You would tell, but refuse.

Respect me, or I will blow your memory like dust into the wind.

You do not deserve any acknowledgment from my breath.