Restless Spirit:

Why is it me all alone?

Why is it me so hurt?

Why is me?

Why do my fingers have no hand to cling to?

Why do my words fall so soundlessly?

Why is everything else so brightly exquisite,

While I so dark and hideous?

Why is every other prayer answered,

By the heavens, save mine?

Why is all peace of my heart,

Ripped forth from it in bloody ribbons?

Why is it always my red blood

That's always spilt?

Is this the product of my

Own rejection of myself?

The product of my own

Bitter heart?

Or my restless spirit,

Refusing the status quo?