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Untitled Blessings

"My hands are lifted up."
My heart can not receive.
Bitter moments of failing in front of people,
no family support,
lonely depressive days,
destructive friendships,
one-sided relationships weight down my arms.

Instead of a touchdown, I'm being arrested.
The shackles are not the problem.
Not even the patrol car.
It's the cell-That small, barred, barren place that admits to me that I fucked up.
I've been caught.

The going through is where giving up looks like the pot of gold at Rainbow's end shining brightly and gloriously among dark rain clouds and unforgiving wind.
Family members' haunting howls accompanying tears wailing on my mind's walls. They tried.
They tried so hard to be a supportive beam to my architecture and blueprint.
I was never solid.

My choice.
I control it.
I don't dominate it;
No submission to me in authoritative recognition.
No bowing to me in respect. I am.

"My hands are lifted up."
My heart is grieving steadily.
No blessings from you.
No blessings from you.

Written by JW Bella


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