What are these weapons we
carry with us the inconceivable
death accompanying life
our weapons pointed directly
at hearts stabbing in the dark
and bleeding on one another
because we know we can
because we know we must
because we know that
times cares not for how much
we know or love or
hope.
I love unreservedly
but I live cloistered
in a cage of my own design
to be at odds with each moment
of each breath, I am
against it all and myself
most of all
Is there peace to be had in this
lifetime
Can balance be found before
acceptance can be catalyst
Can be perfect; a broken
heart hopefully not ossified
frozen in between beats
and unable to pump this
life into warmth and
sunrising moments where
feeling isn't just first but is
only and completely and
trusted as I do the next
breath will fill lungs and heart
and brain firing, mis-wired
though it may be at times
Resonance with the abstract
made real and running because
it is alien and unknown and
the mis-wiring keeps clarity at
bay keeps understanding the other
nothing more than a wish
a hope that one day the
churning maybes against which
I strain to breath may
finally relent finally
an understanding and more
why can't we accept ourselves
and the other's
expectations unmet
and the overwhelming sense
of nothing more than disappointment
nothing more or less than balloon
bursting and kid's dreams failing
to become reality because
we live too much apart
from what actually is and
is not this enough to
try, to love
may not be enough.
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