Saturday,
January 28, 2012
The grays
fade into blacks while hints of color tease to break through,
I'll sit here in pain while I hide on my face the cold, hard, truth.
Wanting to believe that every rose has its thorn,
But my heart cries wet tears as my soul feels torn.
Wanting to be the foothold for others relief,
But my mountain is crumbling setting all insecurities free.
Piecing it back together I strive to rebuild,
What the world tore down-al that I tried to conceal.
Asking for the unknown and trying to find the obvious,
Going head first through this large mist of darkness.
Throwing my hands up above in both surrender and hope
I pray there are some words to stitch back my soul.
I'll sit here in pain while I hide on my face the cold, hard, truth.
Wanting to believe that every rose has its thorn,
But my heart cries wet tears as my soul feels torn.
Wanting to be the foothold for others relief,
But my mountain is crumbling setting all insecurities free.
Piecing it back together I strive to rebuild,
What the world tore down-al that I tried to conceal.
Asking for the unknown and trying to find the obvious,
Going head first through this large mist of darkness.
Throwing my hands up above in both surrender and hope
I pray there are some words to stitch back my soul.
**this poem was selected in a contest and published into a high school authors poetry book
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