There is much to be said about how we adorn these sacred shields.
Armour grown from roses, gilded in gold. Scratched by the thorns.
The face we all hold up to the sky,
A face so calm, plump from the rivers of tears.
Left behind the dusty pebbles of our own truth.
Trying each day to muster the courage to master the roughage.
Dealing with me...forgetting you.
Desperately trying to live freely and wise.
A student of myself,
Evolving and showing myself I'm there.
I care.
Tearing through past notions and adaptations of seperate self.
I can finally fall in love with you again.
A patchwork heart, sewn through messy tragedy.
My own beautiful blanket.
Whole again, for today.
Now armed with a thousand needles, ready to tend.
My beautiful patchwork heart.
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