Rise

Seven times risen, now here comes fall number eight, looking at the past seeing fractured future states, living in denial with thoughts amoral,a soul immortal,like God's child, wanting to escape life's cruel cycle, a soul crucified.

Living in this circle knowing the heart's pain is perpetual, having faith in fate is the soul's daily ritual, dismissing wayward demons, using a psalm from David and a song from Solomon, talking to our father using words from his son.

Falling again, but still can't hit the ground, in the midst of insanity trying to find something sound, trying to live in sanity while losing freedom hoping to find wisdom, having loud vocal thoughts with silence rolling off the tongue.

And at the point when all seems lost, and loneliness the only comfort, and the heart bleeds and the soul thirst. Hitting the ground always hurts, the eighth time feels just the same as the first, perhaps a bit worse, making no sense to curse, the mirror,  becoming your only nurse, caring less the more it hurts, now a heart left careless.

Using the strength in the eyes of the reflection, there can be only one direction, while keeping count of each affliction, one more fall deserves one more resurrection, so here goes my 8 times rise,it has prepared me for the ninth's pending demise.