raw

"A boy with a coin he found in the weeds
With bullets and pages of trade magazines
Close to a car that flipped on the turn
When God left the ground to circle the world

A girl with a bird she found in the snow
Then flew up her gown and that’s how she knows
If God made her eyes for crying at birth
Then left the ground to circle the earth

A boy with a coin he crammed in his jeans
Then making a wish he tossed in the sea
Walked to a town that all of us burn
When God left the ground to circle the world"

when did i lose hope? did i lose it at all? why should i have reason to think it is gone? nothing that traumatizing has ever happened to me. stories, stories with tears on the pages; pages glued together and the words blurred with tears. my pages are still legible. but i feel on a spiral, downwards.

when do we feel like God has left us? sure, to be honest, we all feel like someone has abandoned us in our time of need. it's easy to feel hopeless like that. but in truth, we are too wrapped up in our misery to feel the arms around us, encircling us. when we shun comfort and pity, empathy and caring, is when we need it most. why? why must human nature be so ironic in terms of our circumstances?

maybe it's because we want to show we can handle it on our own, but somehow when we turn away, the caring soul draws closer. or maybe that's our motive? to draw them so deep into our cause they become completely empathetic to the point where they can literally share in our pain and despair?

humans are confusing. and yet, without putting it into words, it seems to make sense, because we all do it. every one of us.

i oftentimes wonder why i myself don't grow wings and leave the ground enough. leave this place for a while until everything subsides. would it clear my head? or how many more heartaches must i go through to make myself more real? more withstanding, tested by the wind that stings. ready. raw.

-d