Each day it’s there
The words buried deep inside
Fighting to come out
To form the description of your being
Write the song of your soul
Upon the lips of those who speak you
Each day it’s there
Dying to get out
Climbing, clawing from the depths
Always reaching for the light
You may choose to bury it
Or hide beneath the piles of scars
Bruised and broken bones
Healed grotesquely
Covered by layers of superficial beauty
You may wish not to share
But each day it pushes against your resistance
Each year the pressure builds
As you stretch ever thinner
Will you reveal before you break
Or will you allow yourself to shatter
Into a confetti parade of you,
Your beauty and your anger
Raining down on passersby
As if that’s your only choice
And anyway, they don’t seem to mind
Yet afterward they brush you off
And you’re left there in the street
Forgotten and discarded
Or rather will you let the rising take form
Release at your own will
Form the words of your own song
Released to the hearts of man
©SpiritLed 2015