Scribe

It’s 3 am and I’m finally giving in.
I’ve been staring out my window, watching the rain. Through foggy glass and worse brain.  
Every drop on this beautiful fucking window pain.  
Clean and pure, no detour, a new beginning- this house is pulling at my core.  
I wasn’t ready for this kind of love, this kind of growth, this kind of hope.  
It’s only been a week, but I’m asking you to look through my jokes and see that, friends... I’m weak.
I’m reaching out for help but I don’t know how to explain myself.  
The odds aren’t in my favor, I’m tasting a dangerous flavor that I’m beginning to savor. My faith is beginning to waiver. So I’m putting it on paper. Hoping to spell out my savior.  
I’ve mustered up the courage to reach out and look for an alternative route. I’m trying to tell you what my attitude is all about.  
I know it doesn’t make sense because I’m not clear, just intense. I can’t make the words and I don’t feel like myself- I just sit on the fence. I won’t show that I need you and it’s much more dense.  
But I hate admitting that I don’t have control, that my emotions have filled that roll. That’s the only way I feel like I’m whole.  
This shit is starting to take a toll.  
They say get some love in your life
Start it tonight  
Put down the knife  
Lay off the pipe  
You don’t need to be his type to start acting like a wife  
Quit being afraid of feeling right.  
Release these demons, finally start dreaming.  
Hate is defeating. Your soul starts leaving. Addiction isn’t the only way of breathing.  
Look inward on your mind and it just might-  
End this fight and show you there’s light.  
The future could be tight.  
God, I can’t remember the last time I could sit down and just write.