my thoughts have disappeared.
My pen no longer knows it's old friend, paper.
It's the end of the day,
and I am alone.
Alone with the thoughts in my head, that no longer make sense.
Alone with the tension in my heart.
Fighting for love. Fighting for life.
Distance greets me.
Trust leaves me.
My inner self meets me.
Pride and humility clash like fond warriors.
My opinions are chaos, blinding me from selfless love.
Pride sure makes a mess when it clothes itself for dignity and honor.
What do I want the most?
My Jesus met soul says, "humility, and all things good."
My pain stained past says "your habitual responses create familiar protection".
So, I build new walls,
form new callouses.
Because, sometimes, it feels better to want to healed,
than actually healed itself.