The Balm.

When home doesn't feel like home.

And breathing isn't living.

When crowds make you feel alone.

And the silence is deafening.

When bleeding doesn't hurt.

And your clothed but cold.

When your clean but feel like dirt.

When your free and yet feel sold.

When your deaf and dumb.

Blind and yet unimpaired.

Cause your soul is numb.

And it leaves you in despair.

When your body is sound.

No cuts or strains.

No wounds to be bound.

But your numb from the pain.

The heart is what's wounded.

It doesn't bleed like the body,

Time and balm can't mend it.

The cure is an ample rarity.

It's a balm that can't be bought.

One that must be given.

One that can't be wrought.

Only received from another person.

Living gift that must be given.

Only to be received.

Via bonds that can't be broken.

Entities broken united to be healed.

Light that heals the blind.
Offering warming the numb mind.
Voice that breaks the silence.

Embrace that fills emptiness.

Love was what redeemed man.

Overcomes the undergones and fulfills His plan.

Virtually healing reality and covering sin.

Everything perfect every life worth living.