Heart throbbing,
Weighs heavily under those eyes
The cares; Uncertain, painfully unknown.
If only to control was in our hands,
Even so, we so much would fail altogether.
Wound after wound,
Nothing we felt as it opens in width...
Downwards spiraling;
Pulling the brakes is as good as breaking
Legs and ligaments,
Bleeding is by force not an option.
To cry?
Better off the burns and pounding,
Choked up in tears,
No more glory;
If only to choose, was in our hands,
And it is so, we can choose.
"The Lord begets me, as Abraham begot Isaac"
Destitute...
That's where we always find ourselves standing
When we fall down.
Who do you turn to?