Lets Faith It

this one is gonna be ugly. I'll try to put it into poetry form so it isn't so difficult to bear.

my brain is jumbled when i try to pray
all i hear is the static between the channels.
no clear connection
paradox of life
when every dear belief
is methodically plucked away.
the beauty changes from its original form
still beautiful, but scattered
as rose petals
having been an extension of thought to one who only asks
am i loved, am i not, am i loved, am i not.......
can i love, can i not, can i love, can i not.......
are roses of more worth, either way?
or are they simply what they are
a tool of inspiration, a thought, consideration,
and repetitive emotion.
i see the hand of its creation
so why does my heart rage?

i saw her the other day
its been so many years
i thought the pain was all gone
just seeing her made my heart weep
a rose for her
a welcome to my heart
she is dragging out these heaps of baggage
oh crap,
how do i tell her
how do i tell her
that stuff is not going to fit in the car.
there she sits, distractedly nerdy Junie B. Jones type,
on top of this ridiculous heap of garbage
insisting that i must make it fit.
fallen rose petals slowly decorate the heap
around her feet with each
am i loved, am i not, am i loved, am i not.......
can i love, can i not, can i love, can i not......

she is there
but who is going to tell her
its you i like,
its you i like,
its not the garbage heap you sit on
its not the baggage that you bring
its you i like