A Conversation with Myself:
Broken hearts, when destroyed for no reason, have a way of twisting you on the inside. You lose a part of yourself. A piece of you dies and sometimes that piece festers and infects the whole of who you are. It can devastate your life, cause you to question reality...and especially yourself, (can I trust anyone?). You begin to question your own sanity. It haunts your existence and consumes your time and paralyzes you and renders you unable of giving the amazing amount of love that you thought you had to give to others who are so much more deserving. But you find no love left--not even for yourself. Not even for God.
"But it doesn't have to be this way...only if you let it" they say. "You're the better person, and there's a big world to make up for that small piece you lost" they say.
I guess that's true. I guess it sounds like those are the right things to say.. But...God help me...I know I still wish this had been written for me.
However, I know the truth...now. I know it wasn't. None of them were ever written for me. I hate the consuming pain and grief with it's pounding heart and light headedness and gut twisting sensations that make it difficult to breath, or move. Wondering that if you dare to stand will your knees really support the weight of your thinning frame? I hate that I was such a fool and allowed someone to treat my body, my spirit, and my heart so carelessly. But this is my penance. After all, I invited him in to the depths of me. I opened every door. I trusted.
I hate that I trusted someone who used me and was capable of throwing me away and treating me as if I never, ever was Anything.
At.
All.
Ever.
It's the feeling of insignificance that causes ones spirit to wither and die a little more each day.
When I catch you when you’re falling
Will you tell me how you fell?
When I hold you when you’re crying
Will you let me share your tears?
When I help you find the answers
Will you tell me of your questions?
When I love the beauty in your years
Will you let me see you smile?
When I make myself a poem
Can I sing for you my song?
When I help you unfold your wings
Can I teach you how to fly? -------------
When you tell me how you fell
You help me find my balance
When you let me share your tears
I no longer need to cry
When you let me see you smile
I know the beauty in our years
When you tell me of your questions
You help me find the answers
When I sing for you my song
You make my life a poem
When you learn to use your wings
You teach me how to fly -------------
Broken hearts, when destroyed for no reason, have a way of twisting you on the inside. You lose a part of yourself. A piece of you dies and sometimes that piece festers and infects the whole of who you are. It can devastate your life, cause you to question reality...and especially yourself, (can I trust anyone?). You begin to question your own sanity. It haunts your existence and consumes your time and paralyzes you and renders you unable of giving the amazing amount of love that you thought you had to give to others who are so much more deserving. But you find no love left--not even for yourself. Not even for God.
"But it doesn't have to be this way...only if you let it" they say. "You're the better person, and there's a big world to make up for that small piece you lost" they say.
I guess that's true. I guess it sounds like those are the right things to say.. But...God help me...I know I still wish this had been written for me.
However, I know the truth...now. I know it wasn't. None of them were ever written for me. I hate the consuming pain and grief with it's pounding heart and light headedness and gut twisting sensations that make it difficult to breath, or move. Wondering that if you dare to stand will your knees really support the weight of your thinning frame? I hate that I was such a fool and allowed someone to treat my body, my spirit, and my heart so carelessly. But this is my penance. After all, I invited him in to the depths of me. I opened every door. I trusted.
I hate that I trusted someone who used me and was capable of throwing me away and treating me as if I never, ever was Anything.
At.
All.
Ever.
It's the feeling of insignificance that causes ones spirit to wither and die a little more each day.
When I catch you when you’re falling
Will you tell me how you fell?
When I hold you when you’re crying
Will you let me share your tears?
When I help you find the answers
Will you tell me of your questions?
When I love the beauty in your years
Will you let me see you smile?
When I make myself a poem
Can I sing for you my song?
When I help you unfold your wings
Can I teach you how to fly? -------------
When you tell me how you fell
You help me find my balance
When you let me share your tears
I no longer need to cry
When you let me see you smile
I know the beauty in our years
When you tell me of your questions
You help me find the answers
When I sing for you my song
You make my life a poem
When you learn to use your wings
You teach me how to fly -------------
Nice. Good expansion of the original but dont be too hard on your self. There's too much left on this earth for us to see and do little sister. :)
ReplyDeleteI love you Scotty <3
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