The In-Between

What is there to hold onto if you don’t even know your Self? There’s nothing worse than a hardened heart that yearns to crack and spill all over Bleeding for the truth, finally breaking free Thickened by time, grown into leather Loss, ignorance, misdirected energy Trapped and bound, waiting in the dark No one goes in or out So softly it whimpers for deliverance Questioning whether anyone exists to hear Yet it longs to cry harder, to yell with passion To scream wildly with the force of true surrender An unrelenting frenzy capable of compelling a worthy answer The loss of control promises a sigh of relief, “Ah, so” But resignation is a tight-fitting muzzle that stifles the sound and it chokes on the words Despairing, it struggles to forget, knowing full well it cannot Blessed. Cursed. A cruel and ?beautiful game Stuck in the in-between Who doesn’t dream of opening up An entire lifetime (or more) pouring out, free of the chest? A hollow shell never so complete