Howls of the Forest

I long to begin to scream out,
at the epidamy and beyond of my lung capacity..
at the breaking points
being hit
too many times
and again.

I can't tell if I am in a becoming
or dying,
or a "find yourself all over again,

as my wings tremble,
and I make like I am alive..

because I am.

As the world actualizes around me,
and this little gutter rat grows up, watching the world change...

after a while, realizing it didnt change, so much asit was always a trap...
and education...
just the illusion of something.

I will tell you what is tangible though...
Hopes.
And dreams.

They are tangible because you can feel them INSIDE YOU,
underneathe
just beneathe,
the surface of everything

you will ever do.

As I approach my brigde...
I observe a worn and tattered persevearing limp.
I still have my eyes, legs, hands and feet-

They have not killed
me yet.

The hope of something big...like comfort..
or safety...
and love...

They die often, but always transmute back into itself.
When I collapse...

I collapse into Love...
Into everything it has taken for me to get here...

At this marker on my journey..
Where no way, is yet shown,
and yet still,
I have been summoned to wait.

Screaming would free, like tribal howls,
the damage I have stumbled upon...
across the earth..

and within the universe that is me.

I am pieces of who I used to be, when I was strong.
Remnants lost so many generations ago.
My knees are weakening, and chest breaking....heaves, from the screaming of my soul

to just "please let me go; please!!
let me go!"

I am a prisoner.
Unlovable in my own detainment...
As i tiptoe through bacteria and simply shade out the existane of the Demons.

Did you know,
I...

Love..

But I can't see his face.

and it scares me, as much as falling in love,
the beaten path,
of a beaten woman...
and an ignorant bunch around to the sacrifice she always bore to example by leadership;

we were always a gluttonous race; 

 a gluttonous race... 

And maybe I'm too Gluttonous for your perfection. Or maybe, that is simply what's fake. 

What is not fake, is the bruises. Or lack of calls. Or crying. Or the lying, that you had nothing to do with...

And neither do I want you to. 

But the world is twisted and I have never been a girl unburned. 

You will burn me to be selfish, because that is what I have been taught men do. 

And I will continue to die a slow death, 

As I have been taught too. 

And together, I may never know your love, but instead a distant memory. 

And I will be strong. 

Because I have to.