A labyrinth of red washed walls, my heart’s anguish to soar above the clouds.
As I trace my scars I think of rose petals. Is my body still asking for restitution? Have I not yet paid the price?
My pain so constant dragging and persisting my heart flutters trying to shrug off the shame of pain my body has layered upon it.
People say I’m a lucky lad but that is making me think a second time on life.
Am I to be ashamed for being upset and wondering what to do with my existence.
Paradoxes in my head are conflicting and oft times make me quit and play the victim.
I feel an icy frigid trace along a scar so long past made… But I must turn away from my pain body’s incipient voice.
So with my hand I place these words to paper. Will it help me to stay on the path and proper?
Oh don’t ask me for I cannot say.
All the improper has made me the man I am today.
The warmth of the sun on my face is so much like the inner calming of that raging storm, Go forth and laugh, give a helping hand my heart sings so vibrantly proud and loudly.
I hear the trumpets off on the horizons far off eastern edge. A new life I hope leads this host, for now I feel as I have to embrace my inner half.
As I have been cast into the fire of life and survived, yet not undamaged I am scarred and burned.
I must strive.