Inner Child Revisited

They say when it rains God’s saving a soul

And not worry about things beyond your control

Can’t control the weather, can’t make it better

Can’t make you love me, reason why I’m so untrusting

My heart beats slow, but my soul is comatose

Because I’m loved by everybody but the ones who matter the most

If you hate me, then why did you make me

Shame you can’t even smile at your first baby

Inherited your features and your cold disposition

Because the world put a tender, young boy in this position

Bullied as a youth, but inside of a bullet lies truth

Because I had thoughts on killing everybody including you

Including myself, no one saw I needed help

Because I was so good at disguising the pain that I felt

Baby boy neglected with a lifestyle hectic

Heart full of hurt mind full of rejection

Inner Child raised in a city that made him wild

Where insanity ran rampant and murderers were established

Trying to curb this habit of hatred

But instilled the day the person that made him, left him forsaken

Left him patiently waiting for a day that never came

So that day love was lost, never to be found again

But I’ll take the blame, I was born simple and plain

It was my fault that he left and after that my fault that i changed

It was my fault the world didn’t quite look at me the same

It was my fault that I harbored so much hatred in my brain

It was my fault that I held on to such strong hostility

But this inner child matured with the ability to take full responsibility 

An Endearing Touch

penofthegoldenchild:

With your skin in my fingertips 
I feel the pulse of Heaven
And it is made real again
You are my faith
You complete me

Love Angel

The inside of a Scorpio’s heart is a frozen vast wasteland paved by shards of broken ice and bodies of the once weres and the has beens, and as I explore the frigid tundra landscape, I find you there, slumped over with an sharpened icicle protruding from your back. The blood that melts the frost that coats the ice is evidence, proof of the dangers in which is posed when exploring a Scorpio’s heart. I am not heartbroken, I tried to warn you of the ugliness, but when you looked past my ventricles, past the soul of the cardiovascular system, you only saw the lonely flower that grew tall and dark. You were beautiful to me because no matter the thorns that stuck nor the  climate in which it thrived in deterred you away from the possibility of the touch of those dark red petals. If only you knew that that rose gained its color because its roots were fed by the tributaries of blood that run deep within the ice. If you would’ve looked closely, the light pink tint of the frozen landscape would have screamed run, “Run,” but to you, it whispered in its most seductive tone. “Come.” And you did. And you died.