Tear Shaped drops

It's a tragedy to look at my pillow cases and read my life story, at first I thought it must be sweat but in closer exam shapes began to form and I remember the night before how I cried myself to sleep.

 

It's a dream I tell myself but some far away recollection corrects that notion, and I wonder what was I thinking before I fell off to sleep.
If I'm awake I can control my thought process, asleep my subconscious becomes the accuser and reminds me that I'm guilty. So Insomnia becomes my ally and sleep is the enemy.

 

When your young your mind is impressionable and when your old the space is used up so there is nowhere to go in your head that doesn't feel like dread.
The ability to deceive yourself becomes harder each time you compromise, funny thing is no can add or take away or make it any worse than the finger your mind extends and the faces you make to the inner you who is seeping through day by day.
Alone used to be comfortable, now it is like a scary movie waiting for the monster to jump out, the anxiety builds only nothing is in the shadows just emotional things that have become reality.

 

I like to write from that place, most of my work is the overflow of life, If I dig to deep than the memory takes captive of me once again and like an amnesiac all the memories come rushing back overtaking my soul and re crucifying me for forgiven things, and I so acceptably take the abuse cause my subconscious tells me I deserve these onslaughts of truth.

 

Thank God for his saving grace cause eventually I shake of that heavy burden and lay it down at the throne.
God reminds me that I am not alone and that these memories are just that and not to feed into the past.
Hard as I try some don't die and at night ill cry until i'm drained and my energy is spent a reminder that i'm still Human