Where’s My Savior?

Where’s my savior?
Someone come rescue me. I need some guidance, come set me free.
I can’t behold my life any worse. I can’t see past this hurt, my curse.
I hate my life! She screams. She yells to no one. I amount to completely nothing. I swear I’m done.
I can’t live this way anymore with no one to in my corner sent.
She curses God with great resentment.
I’m alive yet I feel so alone. People try but they just don’t know.
No one understands, and I’m tired of explaining.
Maybe I’m just not fit for His training.
I had happiness, but it probably was false.
Everything good in my life defrauding should be lost.
I don’t deserve anything, look at the life I’ve lived?
Look at me. I’m the thing that God could never forgive.
Where is my savior? No where in view.
So to her life she says a quick adieu.
As she lay there cold with her last breath she asks, “God why couldn’t you free me?”
He responds hurt to his heart “Because… in every good moment I gave you, you refused to see me.”


I feel an agitated sadness in my stomach forming into a depression i can feel coming up through my throat like vomit. Pouring out even from the empty cavity in my chest, the arid case of my body mentally and emotionally at the same time raging like a river the emotion of pain wanting to release its stream through my eyes yet i don’t let it. For what good would that do

I feel an agita…

The darkness of hell embowels the sight of happiness. The greatness of nations shall fall into indignation as my mind wraps around to oblivion. As these slits in my arms turn into canyons and niagra falls from these veins the wishes of many are being fulfilled. √Čtourner le sang.Compl√®tez le sacrifice:spill the blood, complete the ritual. All shall dwell as this aura swells with lovely spite, with viscous passing, with lonely love. As life comes to close so makes room for birth. So makes room for growth. For as the impure dies the righteous gain happiness.

A poem i wrote: the release

My heart remains as empty as the dark canyons of your spirit.

If not for your words I’d be blind to your thoughts; for they are forever hidden from the eyes of onlookers. If not for your actions I’d be blind to your thoughts, for it seems as non existent as you say your soul to be- but I know otherwise.
With black pits your mask your eyes, all pain covered in masquerade. So I camouflage myself and bottle all emotion to mirror the image of love and devotion.
But you open the cap to my feelings and as they overflow like raining blood I ask, Why do you cause this flood? Why do you care, why even dare when no one knows of the history and no one asks of theses mysteries?
I’m not an attention seeker, yet I don’t want to be left in the dark. Us… the spotlight? no, because it would not be of the world’s but of our world, but no… The black pits shall be all they see, not of the care you have for me… And these voices yell relentlessly: “Is it true what no one knows? Or is this love as fabricated as the life you so desperately seek?” “Is this real what no one sees? Or are these thoughts as fragile as your mind?” The voices call to me…
Keeping my heart as empty as the dark canyons of your spirit, yet as full of emotion as your black pitted eyes. My eyes may as well be the same…
For I show no emotion to those who ask and I feel that I’m fading fast…
Fading from humanity…
Closer to insanity…
Pleading for forgiveness for love without insecurity. Imploring your attention to have others see our affections to relieve my selfish tensions so I won’t give in to these voices’ intentions…
If not for your words I’d be blind to your thoughts, if not for your actions I’d be blind to your love; But i’m not blind….
So why do I feel guided by the white cane these voices have provided, leading me to the draining and pouring out of my impure blood?
Well, this is why I camouflage myself and bottle all emotion to mirror the image of love and devotion.
I call for help, for me from you… For us together?
I don’t know if I’m really doing so or if my mind is weathered…
I don’t know if the thought love is helping, or if its my soul melting…
I don’t know if these voices are trying, or if I’m just dying…
Well… time to try to close the top …
At least until these voices stop.

A poem I wrote called “The Overflow” copyrighted ^_^

The Overflow