Waiting God,
Tears from above,
Rain is the remembrance
Of You and the details You
Create around me,
Vegetable state,
Nineveh Messenger
In me—swallow seasons
Are past, the dark engulfed,
The dark was the spark that was
Always lost,
Loss was the season,
A time to shift,
A time to lift the
Happy reasons for
Living—to replace them
With death—games and more
Games stay played,
A rerun of history on
The inside of His story—
A cross, a love to fight for,
A place to live inside of—
This soil has no oil,
And neither does this heart
Anymore—
For I have invested in the
Outside of this dish, of
This cup, yet the cup is
To be passed to the one
Who wants an impact—
I redact,
I react,
I question these principles
For getting balanced out
Instead of living without
Regret—
It stays like a scab,
Like a hard outer shell—
But the wounds only I
Can know, only I can
Choose to let it make
Me grow—that winter
Pain of summer never
Being the same, when you
Were there with me everyday—
I am up,
I am down,
I am out,
But I must be in,
And know what is in—
In order to let you in