Is there so much that this heart can contain? A burden to bear, not understanding where or what or why one feels such. When I lift my face I feel no remorse nor fear, when I bow I am lost and alone. If the body bends back and away, the soul ceases to pray. A flicker, a thought, a passing moment. Fleetingly precious and incomprehensible, but I no longer felt it. The wind in my hair is a long, enduring slap to my face. This ache, right here; here, is throbbing. Overcast clouds on a grey day, on the brink of rain, a downpour, an inundation of failure. I am a failure. Put me in a box and tie me up with a ribbon. I am the worst present you will ever receive. These claws scratch at my eyeballs and I am knotted sideways, hands under legs over head. A blanket on a bed is not a crib, a smothering pillow is a coffin. Lay a black rose on my breast. My mouth curling upwards in a smile is an upside-down frown. Peel off this mask from my face, bind me with ice. Burn my heart so it freezes, so I wake up and realise this is not a dream, and life is ending. Open again, the closed door, the barred path. Let me walk it. I want to leave footsteps, and I want to dance with You again. Wipe this droplet from my eyelash; it sits too comfortably there. I am a baby, but I have seen too much of the world.
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