A collection,
A statement.
Voiced principles of another mind,
Carefully picked words for an even cautious sentence.
They pull punches or arrive as a cheerleader,
Screaming with intent of being known.
Or bring forth easement for another day,
Words and their power.
Hidden or clear is yet to be known,
For not all words are clear and concise.
Nor are they always cryptic and wordy,
My power is in my words.
Whether to hurt or heal,
They are the pinpoint boundaries in which I dictate the say.
I wield them,
Though as a child.
I still wield them with ferocity,
And you can be sure that by brutal or enlightened pursuit.
Either depend on me,
And only me.

I am alone in the crowd of many,
Recognized only by the few.
It seems cantankerous to wish for more,
But sometimes that's all there is.
And for those small moments,
At least I am known.

So early in the morning,
When the sun in my eyes begins to rise.
The dawn of the new day begins,
Though what comes next is still in disguise.
The truth for the answers we seek,
Appear in places we least expect.
Drawn to those unknown spots within the deep,
Lost forever to forget.

I know it,
It burns like hot coals in my throat.
Directions that seem clear,
Only to disappear when it's time to go.
It's never goodbye,
But it feels like so.
What broken record am I that it stays and stings?
A heart is a useful gift,
But sometimes it's use.
Is restricted by what it brings.

Life,
The simple truth.
Drowned out by the complexities of getting older,
As I see with tired eyes.
This world, though wondrous, gets colder,
Breaking from which drags my feet back to the ground.
I see the bells yet they make no sound,
What remains of this big complex life?
When all that remains is but silence in the night.

The cross and king,
Whom gave us everything.
Asks for us in return,
Far away from the place that burns.
Inside the fear that hurts,
Bringing the dark clouds in.
Here I can no longer stand,
Only hope left in hand.

Breath a little and tell me your story,
Tell me why you're cursed and feel resigned.
I'm here to try to convince you of the opposite,
Time after time after time.
I've been here long enough to know you,
Up and down those crooked halls.
The rooms closes in sometimes,
As I rise up and begin to fall.
I will fight to the last breath,
Convincing you not to lose all.
But you are no easy person,
And no matter how much I try.
You push back with the fears in your mind,
And I will not so easily give up.
But rest when it's time.