The leaves here have begun to fall.
There’s a coolness in the breeze signaling change is on its way.
I can only hope it’s for the better.
The sinking feeling comes back to haunt me daily.
I keep the rising screams at bay with work, and school, and making dinner.
But I feel the heaviness of it in my chest.
Like something that was buried alive inside me
Scratching and tearing at the flesh above, begging to be let out.
I am praying.
Hoping it will be the last time it returns.
Each time heavier, louder, and harder to quiet.
History has taught me that one day this will just be a bad memory.
A worn picture in the quickly fading scrapbook of my life.
But being here now, that day can’t seem to get here fast enough.
I find myself repeating all the things people say when you face major crisis in your life…
This too shall pass, have faith, pray, God doesn’t give you more than you can handle.
Well, He sure as hell knows how to push that envelope to the very edge.
And why is this happening?
What beauty will come of this pain? Like a bouquet of lilies from deaths remains?
What lesson is to be learned, or moral obtained when everything just seems fucked beyond repair?
I’m not sure, and I’m not sure I have the patience to wait for it.
All that remains?