Yearning Heart

Walking with head held high, inside a heart is yearning to be picked up and held for a while. Where can anyone go to replace a broken-hearted mind? Is there a chance of recalcitrant loneliness finding it's way to the other end of life's battle? Forlornly Passaic, troubled by insistent rage, doubts of memories deepen then fade. Sallow-hearted feelings gently scraping at the insides of a mind, pleading quietly for a voice that can say what it means. Nether worlds apart, silent sadness is ripped apart by anger and rage, retaliating from a different stage of life kept hidden in a vast cellar of displacement, afraid to face it. Wonder side-stepping itself into oblivion, pretending that it has never been aware of surrounding curiosity and intellect. Caught in a web of heretically profound abuse, turning wildly around, dying inside, afraid to come out, afraid to be alive. Classic manifestations torn loose and fragmented, strewn haphazardly within, kept separate from every aspect of the life it's living. Walking with head held high, inside a heart is yearning to be picked up and held for a while.