We all start out

the same.

Pushed through

organs.

Screaming to our

first air.

What happens to

us

after, though

is anybody’s guess.

I try to

hold onto

moments

that made me sense

what words won’t

show.

Ugly, decayed, cruel,

we battle against.

But time has it out

for all

of

us.

Perhaps you will

make your dreams.

Perhaps you will

discover new ones.

More likely, though,

you will learn

life is not about

your dreams.

Nor survival.

Nor bliss.

We are mis-

educated to

reason

while covered

in skin

and guided by

instinct.

A person can-

not be sane.

Our minds

our Hearts

our souls

were not meant

to adjust.

I, for One,

only find

solace in

Song.

Repeat

Repeat

Repeat

they instill.

But one can

only do the

same thing

over and

over with

two possible

results:

loss of soul

or

loss of mind.

I fight,

Near to the Wild Heart.

With all the hurt.

And tears.

And screams.

Like being ripped

from a mother’s arms.

Which truly did happen

to

me.

Maybe God sees.

I hope.

Otherwise,

I could never stop

screaming.

Then suddenly…

it’s over.