Pain

Since I can remember there has always been pain,
I try to smile pretend like everything is okay,
I guess I have gotten really good at hiding the pain.
I am tired of hiding the pain,
want to wear it on my sleeves but the cuts are just too many,
I have been slowly bleeding out,
my slow and painful death.
At one moment one can be so excited about living and the next the only thought is to die.
My mind is just as bipolar as I feel,
Walking to numb,
starving myself,
poisoning myself anything to end the last decade of misery,
I wish I never met the west coast,
it has been one attack after another,
rape, stabs to the heart, hanging, drowning, drugging,
you name it I have experienced it on this west coast,
I hate life, I hate living here,
I can relocate but my family still will not be there,
Ever since she moved me away from my family I have been suffering alone,
no matter how close they are, they feel miles away,
I always knew I would die at 25

Scared

You scare me,
raised voices in the living room,
she never like arguing,
and after the beating she took in her last relationship, she hated contention,
any signs of anger or argument she flees,
This isn't life,
what scares you more talking to people or being home,
being home, focus the energy,
then you happen to talk to your boss and find out you are needed now more than ever,
escape from the prison,

Its like being locked in a cell,
a cell of fear, unable to unlock the door,
because you don't have the key,
it lays in the hand of another,
they keep my cell locked with fear,
I live scared

Creative Being

The creative being was awoken by the gentle gust of his breath,
she could feel every heap of his chest as it filled with air, she was intoxicated.
She wanted his flesh now more than she had ever desired it before,
the sweat that glistened off his perfectly fashioned body, she was intoxicate.
He was a beautiful song bird, singing songs to the angles and back, he gave her life.
I look over my shoulder and say thank you too the man willing to love me, this creative being,
the one who sang a desolate soul into new life and gave purpose without reason.
Thank you for the walks on heavens face and mocking Satan's roar,
thank you for loving thorns like me,
flowers fashioned in the slums and city streets,
the flowers once trodden upon, left for dead,
yes, those flowers, you sang water and gave them new life,
Hands raised to the ceiling shouting hosanna,
offered prayers answered,
He offered a love he could never return because he knew it was what I needed,
Such a selfless love and cherish heart,
This creative beings new start.