I am the temporary poet.
The one who feels so greatly,
The words do not come.

This is from the temporary poet
The one who is no longer injured,
Who can live life without living through metaphors.
The one who is not quite finished hiding behind words, but finally wordless.

Love. What IS LOVE!

I'm out of rhymes, metaphors and all of the above.
Finally restful as my poet self seems to end. A new phase of me, myself begins.

My mouth stops me from speaking.
Though there's so much I want to say.
But my brain screams be careful and there's nothing I can say.

When you give away your chance to be a child, you break hearts all over.
You give up simple happiness for something you think is much greater,
But will soon find out it's not worth it later.

Please come back and be a child.
A selfless perfect soul yearns His daughter to come back to His arms.
Please, you won't be defiled.
Run back full force, you will still be welcomed, harmoniously reconciled.

Please
We all hurt for you
I know you never liked me
But I hurt for you the most.
Turn back child.
You still have a chance to save your life, love, not yet exiled.

For you.
For me.
For Him.

We mourn for you. For the choices you've made. For the child inside you've forgotten.

I really think you're the one for me.
Am I a fool?
Yes.
But I still believe it.

Who are we to let a non living thing stand in our way?

We're just bones
Muscles
Skin
Brains
Thoughts
Feelings
Souls.

Hard
Medium
S­oft
Tough
Scary
Dangerous
Beautiful.

Sometimes we can see people better than they can see us