Poem: The Pit of My Tears

The journey to being free is one that is lost.

The wind blows and you end up in place where no one knows.

A place that is known by all except you.

You try to dig deep down in your soul, but the pit is too far.

You stop before you can even reach the center.

All you want to be able to live.

Most importantly free.

The cost is more than your bank account has to offer.

Your pride is holding the tears from falling down your face.

Yet you smile can no longer hide the broken heart inside.

Why is this journey the hardest to bear?

Not the one that has cuts and screams.

The one that is the easiest to handle has become the hardest to manage.

As the tears start pouring no one can see the pain.

They see the rain that is coming from my eyes.

The sorrow that is buried in my soul is running to hide.

Yet no one ever ask why.

You never volunteer to share.

Poem: Soaking

Trying to wait for the sun, but I always end up in the rain.

Wondering why it keeps pouring the closer I get.

Trying to run back inside before I end up soaking.

Then suddenly just stop in the middle and looking up from my tears.

Wondering why does this happens to me?

Is my love not worthy of brighter days?

Is this why I never see the sun until it almost gone.

Worrying why am I getting wet.

Instead of trying to figure out ways to stay dry.

I cannot see the end of rain; I can only see where it begins.

I only see the pouring that used to feel like pain.

Pain that no longer hurts, just keeping me numb.

Thinking this is where I belong.

This is my home I have cried.

Unable to stay dry, always stuck in the middle of the storm wondering how to get out.

Secretly wanting to stay in.

Poem: Wet

The rain is still falling, but I cannot feel it.

I cannot see it, but it is all around.

I see the people getting wet, yet I am dry as ever.

I look up and I still see it fall everywhere, but on me.

My neighbors are soaking yet and they are glade to be wet.

I am happy to be dry, but a part of me is wonder why?

Why can I not be like them?

Why must I always stay clean?

Why me?

I try move over to see if I can experience what they are feeling.

Then I stop and just cannot do it.

I paly it safe so that I can stay clear.

Deep down all I want to do is to be like them.

I know I cannot be I have to be like me.

I have to walk my own path and try not to get wet.

Poem: The Rain

Dreams are coming and going.

Love is living in a time where it is unknown.

The thing that makes you wonder is all but gone.

The smile that woke up the sun, has brought storm that you do not run for cover.

Rain is pouring, and yet you feel nothing.

They call your name, but you hear no sound.

You are distracted with the thought of being wet, but nothing willing to get dry.

The wind blows, and you are still standing strong.

You are no longer tall, but you are not willing to fall.

If you fall then, you might miss the thing that brought you here.

Your love, but it is forever gone.

It left when I decided to go, and you told me no.

I wish I could go back, but you are no longer.

Where are you?

I do not know.

I wish I could tell then maybe I could get dry.

Then I would no longer fell the rain.