A prayer for the wild at heart kept in cages poem

Its been two years, four months and seventeen daysДЄs they dragged their rough fingers, calloused at the knuckles, at the tips, And if anything, i need to do it for her. I need to have somekind of faith in life still. Somewhere inside of me there is still a small light that is keeping me going, moving forward. But i have been and alway swill be a fighter. To do anything else besides sleep takes effort and energy that I do not have anymore. My dreams have become my comfort and my real life lately. I drift off into worlds where anything is still possible and where possibilities exist. Escaping from the meaninglessness of my life around me into the more interesting life of my dreams. These days the only thing i really do anymore is sleep. I think of the amount of time i would have to do it before anyone got back home, i think of how long before they would realize.and on and on until i finally drift off back to sleep. I think of the details: how long it would take, how much it would hurt, how messy it would be, how effective. I begin to ponder over the sharp objects and various bottles of pills and other equipment i could use. Some days i wake up and think what the fuck is the point? when my roomates leave i begin to think of how easy it could be. I see a girl who is sad and lonely and empty inside. I see a girl who is in a black hole and keeps falling further and further in. I see a girl to stupid to think, to empty to move. I see a girl who once had potential but now is gone. I see a girl who is merely a bum and will do nothing with her life. i see frsutration, restlessness, chaos, a mess. i see hatred and anger and self destruction and self loathing. i see a girl who doesn't deserve anything, all she has. i see a girl who does nothing, and is nothing. i see a girl who is so screwed up in so many ways. i see a girl with so much ugliness insid her. i look into the mirror and face myself disgusted at what i see.

Tonight is the first real snowfall of the year and I long to stand outside face turned upto the heavens, mouth open, tongue out hoping to catch a tiny snowflake, so that i may kiss these falling worlds. Perhaps it is that for the moment, when the world is covered by snow, you see a world that has not yet been ruined by our day to day lives. Perhaps it is your child hood dreams of catching worlds in snowflakes. Perhaps it is this delicate soft quite beauty of snow that leaves us so entranced and peaceful when it falls outside your window in winter. What you do with this world is your of your own choice, if it does not melt at the warmth of your touch first.

Worlds where dreams are still possible, and if you try to catch a snowflake in your hands, you have the possibility of holding a whole world gently inside your palm. A world in each falling light reflecting snowflake. For there is a peaceful silence in snowfall. For the moment that it lasts, you see the world in its silent most delicately created form, you see it as still. For you see snow is just a mask put on, to warp your vision. Before people ruin this delicate beauty with their foot steps, and city cars that is. Everything beneath the snow dissapears from its ugliness and in its place stands monuments kissed by angels.

A blanket cloaking the bleakness of this time of year, replacing it with something magical seeming, something so pure as it decends untouched from the sky above.The whole world becomes this sparkling blanket of white, of untouched, pure beauty. The first real snowfall, where the tiny irridecent white particles finally begin to stick themselves forming layers on the ground. The sky has turned dark shades of many greys and the temperature has dropped suddenlly, enough for you to see your breath linger in the air.

A prayer for the wild at heart kept in cages poem