still under progress

what are we but mere clay models
stretched above us is the flesh that covers our true self
but beyond the flesh and muscles
the tissues and veins
lays the organs of whispers
each beating along their own drumming rhythm

what makes us mere humans
beyond the ordinary
our emotions, our mind,
the rushing of different sensations
the love we brood over
the hurt we hide through smiles
the happiness we exuberate
the hope and wishes of our dreams
fiercely crashing against lifes realities

yet within all the miracles
that God has so kindly bestowed upon us
miracles beyond our imagination
un touched, un appreciated
we forget all that has been blessed upon us
and focus on that wrath of what pulls us down
digging us deeper in to our pit of waste

like a whirl wind of chaos and commotion
we whirl around the negatives and down falls
forgetting that beyond the twist and turns
a new breeze is born
over and over

but this mere human
forgetting all her pain
has tried to focus on all that lifts her spirits
and holds on to it
like a child holds on to her mothers finger
in the very first contact of her new beating life

how awful it is
to wake up with a new found thought
with a urge of intense need
and have it be unaswered
have it be ignored

how much do we mere humans
possessing such immense volcanic emotions
take simple treasures for granted
and how we miss them
when there slated from our hearts
and thrown away