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Ink is my testimony; I pour it out and watch it bubble then boil until it burns my fingertips.
"Ready for warfare?", my mind antagonizes.
"I wasn't created for battlefields", my heart insists.
My heart is sick with grenades.
Sometimes you have to work on protecting yourself more than your desire to protect others.
To all who have played hide-and-go-seek with words we wish could bubble out of our mouths like fountains that can make us young forever.
Some days, I choose to wear a mask because it's easier to be on stage then off stage, where I run wild without lines or direction.
Rest your heart now, child. For there are higher mountains you must soon climb.
Let the truth and purpose of love guide you. Nothing else, my love.
And the moon reflected in her eyes gave reassurance that she would never be alone.... even if his arms, she was without.
Day will come and you will have relief from the night's vicious grip. Hold on.