Unable to help
or make things better
sometimes there’s just

Pain so great
depression so real
unable to stop
the way you feel

Try to help
there to listen
the wall is too high
something is missing

No sound
but the weight
is deafening

Unable to stop
the inevitable train
when at last
she gives in to pain


Ever there
from where
I know not
never leaving

Easing now
and then
I know not

Waking sleeping
no difference
the cause
I know not

less more
always present
how long
I know not


Cry out for help
but only you can hear
nothing remains
only the fear

Wanting the help
unable to speak
look for strength
only to be weak

Where is the help
searching not found
in darkness bound

Cry out for help
speak through pains
perhaps someone
will save what remains


If you would call me
by my right name
perhaps I wouldn’t
hurt so many

If you would recognize me
for what I am
perhaps you could
make me less

If you would see the real me
instead of making up
politically correct words to cover my sins
perhaps the light would harm me

If you would say to me
every time someone dies by my hand
the truth of who I am
perhaps i would retreat

My destruction and death have a name
it’s not tragedy or terrorism or unknown assailants
you know my name and perhaps you should say it


So you think you’ve got it bad
believe me there’s always someone worse
just open up your eyes
and listen to this verse

always someone out there
who is suffering more than you
regardless of what you think you know
believe me it is true

someone who is hurting, crying, dying
or wishing that they could
stop thinking just of you
for a moment if you would

see the bigger world
the one where true pain does live
past your own little patch of earth
open up your heart and give


In the mending of a heart

the broken edges pieced and sewn

taking in all that broke apart

closing up the pain you’ve known


New people new feelings growing over the seams

stitches filling the rips of pain

the past that broke you now only dreams

time now taken to try to make you sane


Stitches felt only slightly with fingers of the soul

still there and yet less or so I’m told

seemingly now to be somewhat whole

the burning hot fire of the pain growing cold


In these stitches lie the hurts of the past

dreams broken love lost hope all gone

in the twilight now at last

my heart and it’s stitches all alone

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