Writing

In a moment of pain, I wrote, "Writing helps, people wrong us and there is little we can do to resolve conflict but acknowledge the consequences." Writing focuses any thought types and consolidates feelings. When I write, the immersion of imagination and the physical act of typing connect me wholly.

Extroverted Problems

My issue with people is that I love 'em so much,
and you might wonder why there's a problem as such.

I have so much empathy in my brain,
all this love in my heart it just feels insane.

Going to church with crowds by the steeple,
so many warm faces of so many warm people.

Then I pause... I have to laugh,
when I'm alone I feel sad,
and it seems rather rash...
lacking kinship seems so bad...

But I keep on a pushing,
and keep on a kicking,
days keep a turning
and clocks keep a ticking.
My eyes are pried toward the prize,
I cried and cried as I tried.

I keep on a pushing,

and keep on a kicking,
days keep a turning
and clocks keep a ticking.
My eyes are pried toward the prize,
I cried and cried as I tried.

My love feels ever failing and fleeting,
but I keep on going and keep on seeking.

My doggie died just the other week,
sometimes my outlook feels so bleak!

Sometimes I cry and want it all to end,
but I sigh with relief when I see my friends!

Then I pause... I have to laugh,
when I'm alone I feel sad,
and it seems rather rash...
lacking kinship seems so bad...

But I keep on a pushing,
and keep on a kicking,
days keep a turning
and clocks keep a ticking.
My eyes are pried toward the prize,
I cried and cried as I tried.

I keep on a pushing,
and keep on a kicking,
days keep a turning
and clocks keep a ticking.
My eyes are pried toward the prize,
I cried and cried as I tried.

How could so much good be construed as sad?
My life is so full and I'm so glad!

Bring my joy with the people I love,
I miss them already like a flock of doves.

The circles I’m part of make me: me.
The circles I’m part of set me free!

Then I pause... I have to laugh,
when I'm alone I feel sad,
and it seems rather rash...
lacking kinship seems so bad...

But I keep on a pushing,
and keep on a kicking,
days keep a turning
and clocks keep a ticking.
My eyes are pried toward the prize,
I cried and cried as I tried.

I keep on a pushing,
and keep on a kicking,
days keep a turning
and clocks keep a ticking.
My eyes are pried toward the prize,
I cried and cried as I tried.

Then I pause... I have to laugh,
when I'm alone I feel sad,
and it seems rather rash...
lacking kinship seems so bad...

Bare

My pain is a rip and tear.
Eyelids dry drip: not tear.
This empty face I wear
wears deeply toward despair.

Is it asking too much?

Just looking to connect a pair?
Are my methods neither reasonable nor fair?
So transparent to stare?
How much pain am I willing to bear?
My heart is naked and bare.
Who cares? I care. I always care.