Poetry...

     Awakening, I find myself in the same
hell I had been in for
so very long  Like a sapling, my body wants
to break free from the closed-in
reality; however, it has no such luck  Coming to grips
with my all-too-familiar
realm once again,
I am struck by a sensation of extreme
pain  As all around me remains constant, I
move my hands to the path of my
wearisome eyes  There,
on my fingertips, is the reminder of my previous
nights endeavors,
which covers the hurt I had felt both physically
and emotionally  Crimson, magnolia,
violet, and a collage of other colours
had been taken from that which they
had known and were now placed
in my grip on a grasp I could not take
     I discover I only wish to make
a little heaven in this place I've been
condemned  And so I destroyed all that I had in hopes
to create a dream I long to
hold  A true picture of Christ (The eternal
touch of something perfect) and my
words as the frame (the perfect touch of something eternal)