The Whys

The battle is hot

but my heart is cold

I cling by a thread;

the story of old

of how my savior

would bleed and die

For all the tears

That I now cry.

All the Questions

and all the Whys

are lifted up

to empty skies.

Why. Why? All the

WHYS.

Author: Jana Horton

I write to soothe my soul. I empty my words onto napkins, scraps of paper, receipts... anything really. When I was very young my mom told me to stop writing on my hand. I never did. I write on it to this day. I’ve lost so many scraps of Self on soggy napkins; I’ve yet to lose my hand. The words I scribble there may wash off, but since they are inscribed in my soul, once they are released, from heart to hand, I am allowed to let them go.

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