Inconsolable

I have emptied myself out in front of my friends, poured onto their shoulders, poured onto their tissue paper, got up from their floors, and finished their drinks. I have spewed pain onto your screen, and hopefully into your mind, so that people may relate, and see the beauty that can be born, from an inconsolable heart. I have smashed crockery and my knuckles, I have turned over my bed and tables, the need for my abode to reflect my heart, so I do not feel out of place, and I do not smash myself. I have cried every day twice at least, for 60 passings of moon, but it does not dilute my living hell, so I wade through slowly, and I eat and I sleep. The insolent would think me weak, but I would take them apart, for I am trained to handle that, the obvious part of humanity, as I realise I am still in training for rest. But, all hope is not gone, for I have not bottom and I still pour, and there is no monster behind my eye, my spirit is broken but it is still, good. I will not stay cold bitter and closed, I will warm up again and exude the sweetness, I have discovered thus however much ugliness and hurt is inflicted upon me, I am an alchemist. For Love and pain share a receptacle, as do hope and torture, my coffers are large and will run dry, and I will learn to choose with what I have them filled. If it is not given freely, do not give it back, if it is unrequited, realise the error in your ways, for your feelings, they are yours alone, they are given not taken, they are gorgeous, even the ugly ones, and they are all you have.