it's broken, yet complete
it's hurting, yet at peace
it's confused, yet content
it's awful, yet beautiful
sometimes, there are groanings too deep for words. and when these come, i cannot give an answer that would please the human mind of reason and rationale. i can only let the tears run down, and turn over again and again--pleading, begging, weeping for so many things that occupy my feeble soul. i have died over and over, and yet it must be. no, it may not be what you think, because even i have no explanation. i have no descriptions for the turmoil inside--physically, spiritually, emotionally. every angle i am attacked, yet there is great comfort. why is this? my desperate heart clings to what i know is true, and cries out for answers to the unknown.
but i am not undone. i have promises, and to these i will run, escape, and hide.
and here,
there are no more words left.
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