I’m trying to write with such pain in my head. It’s behind my eyes and travels down my neck. There’s dizzy- ness and nausea with popping pain every time I turn my head. Usually I lay down but the throbbing won’t subside, it makes me feel like crying and wish that I could die.
Ray of Sunshine born to me,
I miss you so I can not see.
Stolen, Taken from all that Love thee.
Oh Ray of Sunshine born to me.
You were holding my hand trying to wake me. I could hear it ever so lightly.
In my sleep I felt the excitement rise inside me. Wake up wake up he’s right beside me.
I woke up to an empty hand, turned looked no feet where he would stand.
I Hear it Loud and clear.
It Wasn’t Real, He’s STILL Not Here.
So Missed and Loved,
What is Better?
And who decides where, when, and why it’s that?
Is it because I am here reading, and or writing what I often believe is crap?
Because my whole life I’ve survived all the plight,
and people believe I should just be alright.
And now I’m here asking for help, in saving my life.
It seems in this process in asking I see… I am not the only one, no matter how alone it may seem.
And if I can take some baby steps, and use them one, two, and three. Then I will take a wave from the waters edge, ride it not fight, learn, live, grow, and be free.
Free from the desolation that seems to be me.