Oh, little martyrs of witness

Oh, little martyrs of witness
The reflections we receive from other people’s reactions toward us can be hurtful and inaccurate mirrors.
How do we process this and use truth to combat it when those mirrors begin to show us ugly things?
Sometimes, life feels like a dead-end. Stagnant. “Where the heck is life?” you ask, numbly, sitting on the edge of your bed.
Friend, let me pick up your face with a little light and love:
Read on ❤
And it kills me to remember you shaking your head, after you came to me in tears, and walking out that door to never come knocking again.
…
I still want to grow old with you if you’ll let me. If you’ll help me rebuild these broken pieces of this once-most-beautiful home.
I was right about one thing… I’d never find anyone like her, again.
You are a lie, beautiful fall, a taunting lie. Surely we fall in your presence. We fall down to the bitterness of winter, blanketed in icy cold; the unthawed hearts, we freeze to death. For this is your poison, Autumn, you are our fall dressed in kindly colors.
I try to find you in another, I search among mankind, but you are imaginary and none were made for me.
Thus, I will trek this journey of pain…
Why would I want to live unless it were in my dreams, and why would I want to breathe unless it were the air of hope and beauty?