Have you ever wrapped yourself in blankets knitted with bullets,

resting your head on pillows stuffed with uncertainty,

while trying to catch sweet dreams on a bed of thorns?


Have you ever felt daggers caress your arms as you reach for grace,

causing scars that are artistic reminders of a war that was,

where you cried bloody tears that washed your soul onto mercy’s shore?


Have you ever climbed onto pieces of your broken heart to travel towards divinity,

embarking on the journey with night filled eyes so you could learn the language of stars,

wearing strangely coloured bruises that merged with the sun to resemble rainbows?


Have you ever endured blistered hands that were freed by their own agony,

while your wretched sprit became a blank page reserved for salvation’s ink,

and knees attached to your battered body fell on the ground to meet the most high?


Have you ever heard your silent screams belt out into songs of praise,

so the questions you avoided could dance with answers you secretly knew,

moving the cracks formed on your fallen dreams to evolve into stanzas of a healing poem?


Have you ever remained still in the grip of destiny’s burning hand,

surrendered yourself as a canvas for her crimes of passion,

swimming graciously across the ocean of her sweet wrath?


Have you been to these places?


Have you felt these things?


Purpose is a pretty flower that grows in graveyards…


Have you ever died,


for life?


*Image sourced*




Published: 2016-08-25 - 12:12:36

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