sometimes when we are stabbed with a knife, oneself begins to shrivle and chive. wanting to potect ourself from further hurt.
vulnerable: capable of being physically or emotionally damaged.
we bleed white, as opposed to red; waving our 'surrender' flag.
the beautiful thing is: its a matter of God to mend.
we watch the seasons go by....still at the same place inside: bleeding our flag.
ahhh. how sweet patience would be. if only i possessed it. one seems lost in the sound: anything that entrances our minds. i'm guilty of the same. it's amazing i've got this far. entrance me. i'm done.
is it too much to ask for solace? all this time, can't there be peace: the destruction of myself? for one so small, hope seems useless. what can we find in madness, other than peace? and yet......all this time-nothing.
oneself begins to bleed, white.
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