Take My Hand

Invisible force,
I need you. Take my hand
In ALL my collapse, and whisper truths back to me,
I can no longer see.

The hands I once reached out for, are no longer, and no longer
Holding me;
Reaching for me.

The illusions are wiped clean, where I was so very blinded...

Like a sheet pulled off of a heart and face.

I am delicate.
Fragile.
And not alone in this at all, am I?

Because how much, aren't we all,
Otherwise I imagine that the hands I love so, would be reaching back.

Colors show, and it is a saddening truth.
One leaving me stunned..oh, yes...

Stunned.
I rest, awaiting food to be delivered...
Because I am collapsed after holidays of putting on face,
And pretending as if
My heart has not been shattered.

I gave some light, and I let some light be given to me...
And this world is blessed w Angels...
But last night was close...
Close to that death I've entertained the thought of throughout all my collapse on Earth.
I lost all that matters playing the notion if I was to awake from that passing out.
I did.
I'm still here.
And I need a hand.
Realizing all the times I'd reached out to that man, he never wanted to take mine.
And realizing some may lend you a hand, but it may only be computer generated.

And somehow, in all that then,
The invisible force is more real that scoops my winged body off the floor and carried me.

They never did that for me....

But this force does.
And somewhere as well, I know this force is a part of me.
Seperate, but the same...

So as any of them hail over what had passed, I hope I can remember that indeed, when time has passed...

It was I, and this invisible force that have carried me to my feet...

Time and time again.

In the face, of what so many had failed to see, or be, or do with me.

But I know...
I am not alone in this...

Not alone.

We are all fragile, and delicate.
Misunderstood, and crucified.
It is our fate.
Our destiny...
Our sentence here...

But so is beauty. Life. Living...

And yes...
Death.

It is real, death.
I see that now...
And maybe I wish for it a little less.
Maybe, still IDK...

Because no matter what,
In death,
AND IN LIFE,
There seems all too surreal a truth...
THAT HERE,
We very much live and die alone.

Whatever I have done to be a "good person"...has backfired on me-
The stands I took...
The loving at all cost...
The forgiveness attempted...
The abuse withstood

There are so many who are cruel here.
Who try less than I.
Who care less. Who hurt more. Some on purpose...

Why does my life feel like a punishment, as though I were one of them...

I will never,
Understand this..