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Endless screaming from the ones repealed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
And all the worry and fear I despise
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
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?
You already did.
For a slow-time, there is peace
and it is not fragile, it is not weak
it will roar like the lion, like the guarding beast
I WILL NOT GIVE IN TO THIS ANGER IN ME
Sometimes the greatest poetry…
Rage, silent storm;
Is the absence of any.
The quiet, heavy ladled
Only over the story..
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.
I feel, I feel! Anger and joy and
Trembling-relief, the madness-leaves
Spiraling shaking in the breeze
They fall like autumn, sleep like seeds
I cry for the joy that I’m angry and free
What a perfect way to disappear
Just heap the anger in
It buries everything human
And leaves you utterly hidden.
I will try to make my feelings clear
But there’s a whirling dervish of worry in here
My anger expands to protect my soul
Caged by my ribs, it shivers and glows
How dare you. How dare you
Memories are not trash
You expect to be treated like family