Loss is not a road I ever did choose.

Across the path, aspiring to keep on

Gazing beyond dusk, I yearn for a new dawn.

But behold, that wall was never mine to move…


Our love is not a pleasure we desire to lose.

The glove of hope, my protection from cold reality;

Our joy glows in finding peace beneath audacity.

Life is lost. I have now to find that piece of me,

Above my condescension; below my pride


Weak knees– Again we are that feeble child.

In meekness I am like a wave so mild.

Glee turns her face and hides and

Grief’s curtain spreads out inside.


Unveiled—the loser in us is undone.

Death prevails and that part of me is gone.

My razor cut chest exposed and

You see now that I am broken.

I grope about in sheer confusion.

Being torn,

Being worn,

Yet still I am reshaped into a new sort.

Reborn to a new sort of strength…



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