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The Great Insane Question
Self component anecdotes of my heart are weak but true. There are fires burning hot in
winter and for not one reason I find a purpose, other than
you. But there's a mighty mountain throwing lava from every
crevice that ever came and I don't give a shit about the repercussions, I'm just
"in-fucking-sane."
I apologise for my language I just haven't had a chance to find a second, or a
moment, no opportunity to advance,
I've been stuck in childish traumas resembling the poorness of my strength since
adulthood swept me under with its resonating test. If I am short on love from
the beginning - not by hatred, but by chance - how can I fight the continuing life
with just a short-dealt, broken hand.
If someone asked how much I'd eaten this week or
maybe, how much effort I expend to appreciate efforts
made by somebody that
didn't know what "borderline" or "sensitivity" really
meant,
they'd find there's something much
more to me than just wanting
someone to care
less.
I've always been quite the pathetic case, really, I think it every day, but
somehow, gleaming in your eyes,
I feel another way. I know there's a capability to me
somewhere within my skin, deep, but I had no idea that you would
find it quite so easily.
I know you fear the mistakes I make and how guiltily I act, but in truth I just love
you - please hold on to
me, tight to me, while I fight my own barriers.
There's a beacon lighting bright and true by the river just over the hill, it reminds me of
the risks we took, the jonquils, the way we preached the calming waters of
freewill. I remember asking just one question to the man who gave me you, I stood up by the
cliff-face, clenched my jaw, waited for my cue. As the waters rose and fell to the
purposeful breeze of divinity, I asked my god one single question, though the
answer still remains a mystery.
It's not a question you would not know, it's something I say almost
everyday, but it still appears to me that you somehow missed it all
along the way. The only question I ever needed answered is one very simple and
true,
how on earth is it that I managed to be lucky enough
to find you.
- Charlotte Griffiths
Published by Charlotte E.E. Griffiths
Written by Charlotte E.E. Griffiths
6 years ago 
