The wind

it has me blown over,
like the wind,
falling for every word,
like her for him,
closing my eyes,
what do I see,
as I open them up,
living in this reality,
the world sees me,
but does not recognize,
because I have been hiding,
in a disguise,
now this question,
myself I begin to ask,
when will I take,
off this mask?
that I wear
to hide every tear
that I shed.

Because,

reality is never
what is seems,
but sometimes the
threads of life,
tears apart from the seams,
and I need to take the needle,
and work on my sorrowed soul,
I hate the wind, blowing by,
life is a low,
life is a high,
but nothing is new,
under the sun,
and everything changes,
for a reason,
but that is life,
the way of the season,
winter, spring, summer fall,
we live in it all,
but that is just the weather,
and things that are bad,
will always get better,
bless me o'Lord,
be my protector,
my shield, my sword.,
heal my broken soul,
as only you can,
and get me throw.
anything that,
blows from the wind