Damaged, by Plumb

And the day is an open blank page and you are the only one with the crayons

And there are no lines to avoid

And no pretenses to keep up

And no more fear of fighting

Or failing

Who will deliver you from loneliness?

Unless you have several REAL alter ego’s, split personalities, or still kicking invisible childhood friends…..you are still all you got
And you are still free
So you’re free now, from the lung-crushing pressure of keeping up

Keeping it down

Smoking, drinking, spinning it all around

Like a youtube visual of your spoiled child-self burning down the house

Pulling out the stops

Stop this stop that

Do this do that

And self-doubt crouches outside the door

You take another one, out and over and you don’t look back

Who will deliver you from your body?

From the nature of your natural self?

Self-condemnation, self-abuse, self-denial

You are still both spirit and flesh
And you are still free
Free to win,

Free to lose,

Free to love

Free to fear

Free to be truth

Even in a world of lies
Are any of us totally free?

Define CHAIN,

Look again

Freedom is not a trade-off

This burden for that…..

This life/love/sacrifice

For another dream, another hope, another self-made top hat…..

Freedom is when something falls away that once held us down

Freedom is when we stop hurting ourselves

Freedom is when we admit we are afraid while we are thanking God for another chance to be unafraid.  Sophie aka Michelle

Hello broken wind  what is it to live in the eyes of the maker?  Does it mean that even now I can talk with you?  I am uneasy.  I am at unrest.  Should there be a storm it would only clean the rubble, and make the path cleaner…..but it doesn’t, and the journey goes on…………and on………………and here I am at zero.   Ground zzzzzzzero…….after all this time.  And at the top of the stairs I wait for a sign………………..that doesn’t come.    It’s perhaps  time to go  Home.  I once asked for freedom……..and now, at it’s door, I question ……… and ponder…..and pick apart.  The doubt like a bad dream here, ever present, ever near, unlike, oh saviour of my life the  hope.  I am a homeless child, a waif, and a vagabond.  Blind, and out of hope.  Father, I have tried everything.  I have worked, cried, prayed, set still.  I am alone.   I am void……and festering…… And this is not liberty.  I am in more bondage than ever…..and so what is love?? Here on earth?  and I can’t come home…..because I cant sleep….and dreams are for those who can’t handle being awake…Father, I am at a crossroad.  I didn’t sign up for this.  And I am weary.  Where is home?  There is no port in this storm.  And there are tears, and sadness, and a longing for a promise that seems so far in a distance, so long gone, so unforgotten.   And so I look for you, and imagine that you are here……