Hemlocked Heart

If I ever make something beautiful
And feel it in my muddy soul when I stepped away
Would I know how to finally breath in the ever coming day
Or would I flounder in the triumph and dilute myself in murky rainwater
That falls over my clay head everyday when I lose track in the exhaustion and exhaling
On repeat, I beg to quell the fire fits of fury and despair that haunt my ever spite filled heart