And I Come With a Heavy Heart

And I come with a heavy heart.
My bones suddenly ache
and my throat becomes dry as dirt.
Eyes seeping into tiredness,
I realize I feel like crying, but for what?

Do I cry for all that I've lost,
or all that I have yet to gain?
Do I cry for the feelings
that have been shed and wounded within me?
Am I to cry because I miss the people that I loved,
the people that I still love and want back?

My heart is heavy and all I do is look for guidance,
guidance in Him and others around me;
none of them knowing that I seek it so . . .

Huddled near a glowing screen, I write.
My emotions are bottled, sealed.
The things that bring me happiness
always tend to bring me pain as well.
I try and be brave, I try to speak out
so that I may not walk alone anymore.
I'm never really alone, but just to have someone,
someone physically—not spiritually—to know
and walk along beside me on this hard journey
is what I long for.

With a heavy heart, I pray to God.
I want to know that I have someplace,
someplace where I can finally be happy.
Moments wisp by every now and then
where I'm smiling, enjoying myself.
Brief moments pass by me where I will
give a small grin and a slight laugh.
But I'm not always happy.
When I'm alone, I dwell.
I dwell on the things that make me think.
Where is my place in the world?
Why can I not be happy finally?
I want to be. Do I deserve to be?

Heavy as my heart will allow,
I plan what future I want,
but that doesn't mean I will achieve it.
I hope I can.
I want it.

More than anything do I want it.
Beating fast within my chest,
I wonder when my heart will stop.
When will my time come and why am I still here?
Why am I in this world doing nothing when
God knows—and I know—that I can do better?
Why am I deserving of my breaths that I take each second?
Why am I deserving of this life I am leading?
Why can't I change?
I want to.
More than anything do I want to.

Aching in my chest as my eyes grow weary,
I shift my feet under the desk and type, my fingers,
thinking of what to press next, glide over the keys.
My head pounding now, I sigh and want to sleep.
My mind won't allow it though. It's cursed to have
a million thoughts pulsing though it at light's speed.
I want the thoughts to disappear, but they never leave;
always staying in place, coming in and out from my brain
whenever I don't want them there.

I just want to be happy.

And I come with a heavy heart
to say that . . .
I'll never truly be happy
if I'm not willing to make it happen.