Paradoxical

coffee

Her heart made of brick and walls.

Watching as they came and went,

They swore from heaven she was sent.

Her pedestal was built too high,

“Father, help!” She tried to cry.

It isn’t heaven sent you see,

I used to write in journals, fill endless pages with my thoughts so they would stop swimming in my head.

I used to write in journals, try to convince myself things were a certain way, to tell the story how I wanted it told

But now they’re just thoughts, floating around and giving me ideas that aren’t true.

I should still write them down. But this is all I could

Yet I smile when you ask me too,

Who I am now is only because of the hurt I’ve seen

And you love this me, God do you love me.

But I am only me because of the hurt I’ve seen

And I know you would not like her.

I am bent out of shape because of the decisions you make

I am frustrated with the plans you forget

I am scared of being let down

Consistently,

Like I have been so many times before.

Because I know the person I am tolerates it for so long and then I just break.

I am not mad.

I’m just trying to love you as purely as I can when all my thoughts screams stop.