Her silence was deafening

You could hear is frequently

Her soul seemed to be ancient

Her style was archaic

Her eyes so light they seemed transparent

Her skin fair and ashen

Her complexion was flawless

Her expression was grave

Her smile was hushed

She seemed sorrowful

But in her pain was such beauty

Love, what is love? There are so many types of love, how do you truly tell the differences between them all? And where is the line of lust and love? Is there even a line, or is it just a grey space between the black and whites of the world?

Love has always been something that you had an issue with, you always love so easy, and confuse love with lust. You hold so much love in your heart, and you have such a trusting mind that you believe everyone that says that they love you.

When love isn’t really what you want, what you want you can never truly find in anyone. The validation that someone could actually love you for who you are, someone could actually see through it all and truly love you.

You can never quite figure out the difference between lust and love, and you confuse love for lust and push those that love you and hold you dear away, and hold the dangerous ones as close to you as you can.

This is far from your fault, you can’t control the way that you see love, all you believe is that no one truly loves you, that you are and always will be leaveable. That you will never find the hand that will hold yours with the truest intentions. You will always believe this, and with this you will never have faith in yourself to do anything on your own. You will forever search for validation for everything you do, you will always seek acceptance and you will never accept yourself for who you are, or who you think you are anyway.

Truth is, you don’t even know or understand yourself, you are, you always have been lost. You have no idea how to find your way, and you don’t trust yourself to let someone else help you find the right way, and yet you search every face you know for the right answers.

Even though you may not have the answers to your questions, to your life, you somehow solve everyone else’s issues. Somehow you can hold everyone else’s issues so well, you can help others and tell them how to get out of it alive, but you’re drowning in your own issues.

You pride yourself in being strong and confident but all you really are is a lier and a coward. You tell other people to face their fears and to face their feelings. You talk them off a ledge, but little do you realize that you are on the ledge yourself.

You’re so afraid to let someone down that you take everything they throw at you in silence, and you never ask for help yourself. You shut them out when they come close to seeing somethings wrong and you tighten your grip. You’re so afraid that if they see you breaking like this that they will see weakness and they will leave you.

You do one of two things at this point. You either push them so far away and leave them before they can leave you, or you push your emotions down and don’t let them see so that they dont leave. You are incapable of showing your truest and rawest emotions to people, and that right there is your fatal flaw.

Emotion is a like a large home

And I don’t seem to have the right key to leave

These breaths don’t feel like my own

And I can hear my own heart beat

Long hallways marked with empty rooms

And yet I stay in the same one

Feelings are uncharted

And I don’t want to make a map

I get tired of reading the same old pages

And the rest of the book is empty

The walls are full of words

And I repeat them daily

I speak so much truth

And all that I hear are lies

Emotion is like a large home

And it’s empty and I’m alone

Wondering aimlessly through the dark hallways

And I can’t find the right room

Somewhere in this house is love

And all I find is regret

The days draw closer

And the nights draw colder

I’m lost in this house

And I see no way out

I have so many doors

And not enough keys

If I did would I even open the doors

And begin to feel mores

Cold wind brushes my face

A moment of grace

I need a change of pace

Poison on my tongue

I’m far to young

For this ice to hit my lung

tounge tied

i wish I could say I tried

i think i just died

How do I show love

When I’ve never done it before

I want to love you

But it’s so hard to do

So I push and push

For you to just go

Before I burn your life

Like I did mine

But I always hope and pray

That you’ll put that fire out

It’s been ablaze for awhile now

And it’s calm when I talk to you

But sometimes burning hot

And it’s tearing me apart

From the inside out

But this isn’t what it’s about

I think I’m just to broken for my own good

The woods is a special place

It may not be a warm embrace

But it sure is a sight to see

For those who wish to be

In this place at rest

Where the ground is like its chest

And if you lay upon the floor

Its like an open door

To a whole ’nother world

And sometimes feels like you’ve swirled

Into a new dimension

And all the tension

Is gone

The woods is a special place

That is full of such grace

If you sit a listen

And let the sun just glisten

You will hear a soft hush

It will start in the brush

And move along the ground

It will be a faint sound

And you’ll have to listen close

For its light as a ghost

I asure its there

You have to know where

Before its gone

Tomorrow will come soon enough

but then again its gonna turn to today

and today will turn to yestserday

and there will be yet another tomorrow

You'll never reach tomorrow

You'll never change yesterday

But you act in the today

While the fireflies dances

I wished that i would soar

Far away from where I stood

Become something bigger

Something better then I am now

I wished to be somewhere elsewhere

To be bright

To dance

To feel loved

Liked the ways that I loved the fireflies

I danced with them

I talked to them

I asked them to help me

I asked them to change me

But I was scared

Scared to explain my reasons

So I ran

I ran from what I knew

Into something so unknown

All alone, and scared

Darkness filled around me

I didn’t have the light

Of the many fireflies to sorrow me

I tried to shine alone

But without them I was lost

I tried to find my way back

But by then I was far to gone

And i couldn’t find anything

All I had was the bitter taste of darkness

And the soft sounds of doubt and regret

I was far away

I felt so forgotten

Like I was dying before i could live

I had stopped myself from shining

I was so afraid so i hid everything

From everyone and locked it away

I hid from the fireflies

And yet hoped to be found

For I couldn’t go alone much longer

But shame filled me as I sat alone

I could see their light

But it wasn’t near as bright

As it had once been

I try to find them

To reach them but they are moving away

Slowly I realize what I have done

There is no hope for me

So i give into this feeling

And I sit down and softly weep

Alone in the dark

But there was one

One single firefly that came

And found me

And helped me back to the rest

That showed me

Journies aren’t always to be alone

 Sometimes I close my eyes and see my home, not the wretched confinement I'm forced to call home, but my real and true home. I can see the house, bright and trimmed, clean and neat. Little bushes on each side of the porch, with small yellow flowers that bloomed in the early, and later months of summer. The deep red shutters sending the house into a sense of calm.

There were three large elm trees in the front yard, standing strong and tall above the slightly grown grass where our dogs played with my siblings. One of these trees rested on the right corner of the house where a small wooden swing hung low on one of the larger branches. The other two, set on the left side of the house. The tree that was closer to the house was strong and living, while the other was dying in its old age. Through the center of the yard was a sidewalk, stretching from the driveway to the small porch.

It's times such as these that the memory of my home is most helpful for my sanity. But while memories like these are bright and happy, they bring on memories of the dark times that soon came after, dragging me into a deep spell of sadness and despair.

The day it happened we were sitting around the table eating supper that had just been made when They broke down the front door, bound us by chains, and drug us out to the front yard where they pushed us to our knees. We were forced to sit and watch them as they poured gasoline upon the house and let it catch fire, the flames licking the side of my dear home, teasingly eating it away. We sat there with no way to stop what was happening, my sister's tears and my mother’s stone face was all I needed to know that this wasn't going to end well.

As soon as my once beautiful and safe home was burnt to ashes and left there to smolder on the ground, we were blindfolded and thrown into what seemed to be a loader truck that my father once drove to transport cattle. There were many other people crammed in with us, and the cries of babies for their mothers, the groans of elders and the soft sobs of parents could be heard. Sitting where I was, I could feel the trembling shoulders of some poor soul crying. I remember taking their hand and holding it all the way to our destination.

At the time I had no idea what was going on, why we were being taken in such a terrible fashion and where our destination could be, but once we arrived I understood.

Now all that I have is a secluded one room concrete pad that has a single window that sits too high to stand and look out of, but if I lay down in the right position, I can see the sky. The soft blueness of the sky, the birds flying above me, as if to taunt me in such ways that are unbearable to such a soul that has seen as much neglect as myself.

Laying here, I can't stop watching the clouds move swiftly as the birds flutter around so freely, hoping that someday I'll be free once more, to roam the world as I once did. I’d give anything to touch the soft earth with my feet, to be able to fold grass under my weight, to run freely throughout a valley, and to feel the rush of air in my hair once more.

This was found on a stolen document underneath the dead body of an unknown person. The only form of identification was the small numbers 4095 burned into her arm right above her wrist.