Those Glowing Red Fingertips...

[xanthral]

I am sitting here at work, bored as hell because the snow hinders my job so much... its nice to have the free time, and i am getting paid, but i like to keep busy... lets see what comes out today...

I feel a break beneath the surface
it comes out in spikes like ice.
They push forward, breaking through my ribs
stretching my skin until it seems like they will push through.
My mouth forms to the scream that ever escapes my lips.
In silent awe I tear at the seams,
praying to a all-but-non-existence for help,
Never to hear a response or a phone call back.
Yet i hold true to what i believe,
and never let go to the sliver of hope radiating from my finger tips.
It calls out to the one that can hear it.
Screams for redemption...
If i can find someone to hold my hand,
They will push the aspired dream through my hand, up my arm
They will melt the icicles pushing through my chest
and send the dream straight into my heart.
Yet I continue to pray to that non-existent being,
and I am getting no where fast.
One goal, one state of mind, no where to run, no where to hide.
Waiting for the time that i am pulled from the thickening mud.
Waiting for that someone to see my glowing hand that was obscured by the mud applied by my past.
I am glad i learned from it all... Glad i still have at least one hand above the surface.