Without a heart life has no definition,

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Without a heart life has no definition,

 By
Alvin O. Mitchell

Without a heart life has no definition. Without love a heart has no fuel, and therefore does not exist.  

How can you expect me to live, when I once lived because of love, and my heart radiated with the joy of life, a time when the fear was not opening my eyes to another sunrise, but rather another sunrise with eyes blinded because of the loss of love.

I hear words of cheer but believe them not, because the curse of life has bittered my belief in true joy.

The moments in time when I start to feel something close to joy, I am reminded to be cautious, because with the next blink, sorrow prevails, and I’m left with the ever present question…WHY?

I used to cry at times, from feeling the emotions of situations, but now the tears reach the surface and are most of the time pushed back, deep down into the abyss, my soul screams, but only I hear the wails of torment. Why does my blood hurt, as though ripping each vein, from running so quickly from my heart?

“I should tell you,” rings through my ears, but I’m deaf, completely in one ear, the right, and the left teetering on the brink.

Once them both joining to create hearing, to help create sight’s sound, now deafened, blinded by life, the curse; Do you, Can you understand, feel the ice cold daggers racing through my veins, pushing me ever closer toward that ledge, am I insane, sometimes yes, sometimes maybe, but never no.

Where do I go from here, Afraid to go up, can’t go down, don’t want to stay here, is fear that which courses through my veins, when I thought it to be blood?

I pray, and I ask for healing, all the way around, but I wonder not if I’m heard, but if I will be answered.

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A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

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