Inbetween

My mind runs, but
Runs with no meaning
Except to find
Deluded seaming
Of the holes in my soul

My heart skips,
But only so lightly
As to not care
Where it plods

My soul flies
From guilt to glee
From Father to God
And back to mutilation

Why can we think
Thoughts so light that
They can be bounced,
But so heavy that
They should be renounced?

Why must we feel
Emotions so deceiving?
Implications, desires
Thought of the mind
But of the fire

Live for fire,
For that kiss?
Or live for thought,
The two-faced bliss?

Maybe neither,
But for a purpose.
One greater than my
Comprehension

Maybe both and the last,
Jumping inbetween,
Only waiting for someone
To tear at your seams

And cast you
Into
Truth

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It's an inner struggle. I wrote it on a night when I couldn't sleep. I remembered a poem I wrote that started like this, "my mind runs but runs with no meaning" or something like that. So I decided to write another version, with another message. Well it might actually be the same, but anyways. The heart skipping part is saying that I feel things I shouldn't. I go from one emotion to another, not caring- even though I should. Bouncing thoughts = jumping from one thought to another. That's pretty easy to figure out. The desire thing... well you get the picture, I think. It's my problem, always, thought in the mind but of the fire. The fire that is passion. That's a wayyyy too used up metaphor, but who cares? I'm 15, I can write what I want. Oh, and thought is the two-faced bliss because there's never just one side in arguments. There's never just "This is right and not that." Also, if you think too much, that's a problem- because although you're sort of smart-ish, more creative or at least more something than people who don't think as much, you still might not relate to people as others will. Different views on the world don't help in making friendships, but you can't think too little either. The "purpose" I talked about is the one God has for all of us, which is why it's greater than comprehension. And the last stanza speaks of my situation. In the beginning of the poem, I said I find deluded seaming in my soul. So "Tear at your seams" in the end was a clue that this is the situation I'm in. I did that in another poem, where the relative word (in this case "seam" or "seaming") was "corner." Anyways, that's all I'm doing- waiting for someone to throw me into some sort of truth. I'm just making up my own truths, saying this is ok for now and saying it's wrong later. I'm waiting for judgment, almost begging for it in this teeter-totter that is... well everything about me.