The Second of Three Sagas (The Ball Pit)

breathe and breathe and breathe again
it’s not the breath that hurts
It’s pretty real, with everyday
I keep trying to make it work
belief is not a factor
my hope is not a verse
it’s more a broken stanza
in all its fragmented words
that don’t quite summarize the thoughts
the ideas that I fight
between the insecurities
that beat me down at night
and all the other voices
captivating me inside
some are invariably true
but most are broken lies
so living is a frightened thing
but it’s all I’ve ever known
and fear takes its advantage of
the days I spend alone
i run to the extremes
to the murder in my bones
then cower in my corners
where my hearts hopelessly moans
the words i keep believing and
the loving words I’m told
there’s beauty in the sadness
in the muddy filth, there’s hope
just cling to all the open arms
like you’re hanging from a rope
believe the truth you’re refusing to
that oft-elusive home
so, take these hands I’m flailing
in desperate attempts
and face these crying eyelids
in your perfect tenderness
say words like “absolution”
to my whimpering defense
if you want my smiling
My sadness comes with it
but, yes I think I’m ready
to start on this new quest
where nothing is for certain
but the bosom where I rest
so, take my petty fighting
all that contrite consequence
yes, take me in completion
I’m yours
I’m yours