Picture, in this world of pictures;
never endings, swirling force of good and evil.
We have but one option to keep the cycle going, and that's to continue, press through, even though we may know those fears are suffocating- and our brains can't take the hating of a higher people group.
Losing oxygen, preventing only sight at first. But sight of love, still dwindling, can only pursue one thing:
Press through. Continue.
You may be alone in this fight, but you're not the only one facing the strife of poisonous life; bare that in mind, and with every slip of a knife, you're not slitting into your own skin, but the skin of another who cares!
And the Sins you stare in the face are the same that He took from you, cast into darkness and kept at bay from you.
And yet, every rip and tear, you find feeling there...
Travelling through your veins, possessing you to do the same, again, again, until something has to change-
There must be release somewhere!
Beneath the floorboards a heart beating, never ceasing, and with an infinity of coaxing and teasing, you may chance upon it.
But only upon one condition.
Press through. Continue.
YOU ARE READING
The View From Above
PoetryThis is a book full of feelings. maybe they aren't my feelings, maybe sometimes they are. If you read it, try to relate to the feelings being portrayed. We'll see what happens.
