The art in being me is experied.
The need for content grow bigger.
The soul still here searching.
The love inside me is getting old.
The pain I carry is what life steal.
The hurt I inflected others haunts me like a waving wail.
To find peace I went way to far to please.
My way to peace came with your truth.
The way to peace is covered in objection and your opponent words.
The way I grew courced me to fell of the track into sideshow’s.
The search for clarity was the quest alive inside me.
The time wasted internal to hold on to nothing but the believe, love killed by care.
I am holding on to a straw thinking it’s just destiny.
The art in me is mute.
The need for forgiveness is large.
The soul within me is restless.
The love I wish to share is on hold.
The pain I carry is to feel us all too real.
The hurt that I try to ignore throbs like a nagging hangnail.
The way to peace is allowing the tears to release.
The way to peace is self truth.
The way to peace is away from everything that is in opposition.
The way to growth is admittance of its need and application of effort.
The clarity I seek already lives within me.
The need for external validation, love and care is death.
I am moving towards my destiny.