Bullying Stress Head from Pixabay

Bursting Through Has Been To What Will Be

Remember the child and the dream, awaken its(your) voice.

The tears of my regret cover my heart.

So careful and forward we march and plan.

Unseen are the pits and valleys on our path.

Frailties exposed in the strength of our “I can.”

How to turn and face approaching turmoil?

How to see in the depths of down and not sink into hateful inner spoken words?

My fault. My laziness. My ugliness. My dirtiness. My crazed harshness.

What have I crafted but ruin and shame?

Underneath these guilts is a tightly knit fabric yet unbroken.

The weave resists cuts but the threads are stained.

Simple base.
Ego drained.
Life reshaping.
Unrestrained.
Cannot stay in place.
Hurt crowding and uncomfortable squeezing my brain.
Escaping.
Tones of reframing drawing me out. Look away, look away, turn away from the shadow and shade creeping and stalking my thoughts.
Kill the doubt, murder the doubt, strangle it, push it away.

How doubt troubles and fights to hang on.

Fear is gazing like the sting of death in a terrifying stare but where it lingers I will stand in my nakedness and return a more stolid glare. Defeat will flee and it is me who will stay and carry on.

As the sun will rise fresh and true so will my soul ascend and battle. We will all ring the bell tolling in our growing hearts.

Revive and answer your call.

Abstract Color Burst

Bringing real feelings along with messages of inspiration and imagination to life. Awakening is the symptom of my infectious condition. Poetry is my condition.

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