a vacuum of visage
such sage relief
from a mother's addiction
I've grown so much
the crime of imperfection
is the passing of easy
misjudgments
too often upon others
one's own worst weakness
can trip the crutch
and where we are left standing
means little
as too few take any real notice
of the reason for the fall
unjust is the man with faux
water in his tears
for he saves his finest sympathies
solely for his own self indulgence
the battle
an internal conflict being waged
upon indifference
separation from the soul's first
obvious symptom
a true missing of self
takes to seedling
the search from within
grows fierce
a tough road taken
marries such spiritual hardship
grappling with the darkness
light the filter meant of impurities
as it is put through the court of the soul
alike attracts alike
this I truly believe
and love always gets to go home
warmer each time than before
for having shed another cold experience....
(Jan 8,2001 5am)