This was an ill without cure,
It was that low empty voice hugging seclusion as I hid more and more in its arms of lure,
There – it was on the play field of my memory, just yanking me through it’s torture,
Could I share, know, love or yearn for anything but this unveiling failure of a future?
I could bear me for just a nano second before calling the dooms of disgrace that usually gawkingly – “Yes” – even floodibgly enraged knocking down this door of this heavenly sure,
It weaned me, then teetered the breathing soul of my core,
Just to prove it was nothing but sure,
As it giggled, I would always be shining through this mirror of mure,
Could I lift my eyes to the hill of vision that lack this poor?
It was the heartbeat of journey that even the nails of tears couldn’t make me fear much more,
I hid in the deep blue – mocking myself in this drowning sorrow just because I was but the value they bothered to pearl pure,
Even in the prime of malicious – self incrimination – I was blessed with nagging songs of a new culture,
That I could still hone slowly but Spring if I allowed myself to nurture,
If I exercised my strides with patience – I shall finally bloom to blossom fruits knowing I’ve become mature,
And each gleamse of defeat shattered on its own and vanished through bits of my steps while I understood myself a great deal more,
I no longer need to circle and curl through the horror of scraps like a vulture,
Because I was sharing pizza of grace to me – this beautiful creature,
Now so many valleys have become the flag of wings that have healed and faithfully fated me all goodness – flying from shore to shore,
Surely, winning mastery of me – Oh, so much more.