I've before been quiet, thoughtful, and kind
and though I have pieces of old, I've found myself in a new mind.
What was made unintentionally has become a contentional reoccurence,
and while I strive to be better, I falter with folly far from my goal.
I'm sorry... rings hollow, dying on my lips for how often I once spoke the words
and heard and did not hear the words which changed nothing for the moment I was in.
I've been breakinng and reforming "storming" as she once said to me...
I guess I'm in the darker clouds where I'd allow myself to think they are "dead to me".
I don't want to be this way, my logical side still persists and it tells me to stop, listen, desist!
There is still time to become what you once were, to live and love and forget--
but I do not want to go back to that old world.
That old self, in that hollow, cracked, disembodied little shell.
In there I had no voice--
but out here, out here you are stomping, screaming like a child! You're overcome with your new voice!
You are right, I need silence--but not the silence I once knew. I need something new.
Give me peace, give me moments; perchance to be still, perchance to find peace in mind
of the soul that has no verbal limits, find limits in order to break down the ones I now build.
I do not want to be a soul out of contention; from all my studies to disregard retention,
the better values my logical side holds on pedestals...
It would destroy a side of me--a fear I have, for what is lost is hard to refind, and in this world next to impossible.
I do not want to risk my soul, my mind--to prove some point, to peruse my voice
because that's misuse, abuse of the worst kind: self is more destructive than the bodily kind.
For a body can heal with time--a body attacked can be seen and repaired. But who can see your mind?
So I, discontent with what I am and what I face, can voice out all my fears and anger and yet...
contention is a worser shell than the frail little apologies I'd hide behind.
Then it was because I thought I was always wrong, that I was never in the right
That my being itself...it drove to some of the darkest nights...
But when she helped me flutter, shake away some of the bonds--I was left with those pulling in contention against themselves.
My freedom, that sweet thing I desired, strangled me as I went through life. For a long time I've gone with it, slowly choking on my own new voice.
because now I had a voice I could throw off troublesome kinds
but breaking bonds builds contentious binds. I felt them most today, darkly, sickly, beginning to entertwine.
My throat closed up, my eyes set to water, but darker pastures beyond my sight can wait
Strangling by this kind will only blind you of the gate.
and blind I was. letting that struggle spread, shaking, crying, clawing out into others bends.
Now I feel duality in my humanity but without further guidance. I trust no external but she's gone from my mind
thus
I found a small serenity, from the past what was once inner sanctuary,
I see some flaws in myself and the others and though,
my voice gives me power, I must see the responsibility also.
I was quiet for a reason, when I was young this was wise,
because speaking one's mind, can bring anger and the chance to be despised.
I want only still to please but this freedom has given me the power of control
something I never had, never known.
I'm still learning but I have learned that my goal is still the same.
I don't want to be hated, I just want you to know the worth of my name.
I want a voice to be seen, the meaning behind my words heard.
These are not just spoken but they still should not be foresakeable words.
I want to use what I once never had, to make our lives better, but I'm still not the best
so don't keep saying that I'm bad--I'm still trying, still working, still growing now again I've opened my eyes
I see the binds that have blinded me, the ones I struggle to breathe through tonight,
and I'm cutting them looser, trying to let you hear a clearer voice.
I want you to know that I don't want to be just contentious
I want to be whole, real, seen and yet hearing. Heard but listening, solid and stable and standing in place
Do you understand that before I felt like after each moment I was erased?
It was like I flowed downhill, like a bucket dumped out in a river. One drop moves down, but the space then had no filler.
If I only gave to others, I had nothing left in me. So when my voice was revealed, I believed I was set free. But I wasn't, like the river, I was still stuck in the same rut.
But digging myself deeper--blind to the path I had set--I found myself in a worse depression.
I want to show you my mind, not my immediate voice--because a voice without thought is no more than simple contention.
I want you to feel as I do, to know and see what I've seen and understand how I am
but I'm still learning my voice, still learning the ground--I've only just been broken out of my shell
so listen, someday I hope you forgive me as I stumble to find my feet, if you don't, rest easy on this:
For me, Going through "storming" is hell.
