Passion flows smoothly,
colors of dreams yet to bloom,
chosen by the heart
In truth, we are all painters,
defying the emptiness.

When I woke up this morning
I had the choice
of feeling like I was in my mother's womb
or facing the cold, unforgiving world.

Most days,
I feel sick,
weak,
and angry.

I'm tired of being angry at the world
for my sins.
I'm tired of feeling
like somebody else.

Lately,
I've had these little pockets of peace;
10 or 15 minutes sometimes
when the world feels right,
and I feel like myself again.

Last Words
When I think about the world
I think of sadness, darkness
A world you can't shut out
A world corrupted
Murderers killing
Thieves stealing
Pedophiles taking youth before it began
Waking up makes my skin crawl
It's painful to smile
I know you don't understand
You don't see what I see
Hear what I hear
Feel the way I feel
You haven't fallen yet
I hope you never do
I have fallen
I have see true Evil
I hit the rocks at the bottom

I wonder if that morning
was dreary and overcast
like today.

And I try not to make things,
see things,
focus on things
as if they relate to my situation.
I'm not sure they could.

Right now,
everything leads me 'round back again
to the same fights and fears,
and the same lies lies lies.
I question myself,
I question every little thing.

What I wouldn't give
for a bit of peace;
for you,
for our son and our daughter,
and the shattered life I had to destroy.