Forgive

If I could still cry from pain or fear,
Maybe God himself would shed a tear.
Is my heart covered by a layer of doubt?
As if the color red could just bleed out.
And in, seep any color of despair,
To scab over without slight repair.
Flaking fungus pores into my lungs,
Drying out speech from behind my tongue.
Muscles never capillate until their rigid.
It't the stress pinching, forcing their distortion.
Till they crack, separate from bone,
Within i'm heavy yet empty and alone.
If I could cry out and not from within,
I'd forgive myself and be relieved to be living.