release us....

tied up in my sheets, my future lies before me
as the fan flutters the pages loose, back and forth they blow.
its still in here...this book has stirred enough.
my thoughts entertain the choices of departure,
hesitance from a young obedience or plain fear, how do I know?
at times i wish my balance away, oh that i would finally fall...
and ill pick up the pieces of a fate decided.
Realized by a healing I cannot see, hope glistens as conscript listens to this plight.
I feel this fight for me. not much i can explain, as if i overheard from another room
in defense of me, the divine speaks towards the demonic's conceit. who am i to be fought for? are we all that different? together as elements to nurture or neglect, the children's mantle he will protect. my future is decided by the stand taken by generations past...

variance in the grey

A life without a past, a history or reputation. A lack of patience for explaining the particulars of choices made. A barrier between who they were and who they strive to be. Is freedom the white washing of memories made and mistakes replayed? A complete severance from what was and hopes to what is?

Apologies wasted on paper, good intentions left lacking and a cry for time to heal. Its all so aggregated through fear and locked tight with folded arms. Why is anyone surprised when those dearest to us is hurt, for they are by default closest in proximity to our mistakes....

all I know is that saying when is the hardest part.