Carvings in A Tree

There are no words I can use.
And it always seems to be this way,
I can express myself through song and prose
When nothing seems to be so wrong.

However when I need release
I find it hard to concentrate
On words and phrases that’ll let me go.
Its seems to be like carvings in a tree
They will not fade and they will not grow.

Fixed in some unmovable state
They linger until death do they part.
Like those who do depart we cling to the memories of their existence,
Not noticing that in doing so we lose our own.

Sticks and stones will hurt my bones
And your words will shatter my heart.
But time eases pain and I will get over you
But like carvings in a tree
It’s sad to say that only our last bitter moments will prevail
The knife that cuts them out will ruin all other blissful moments as it ruins the bark that's bitter than your bite.

Unlike most times I have formulated lines
They do convey to me how I feel
But where’s the high?
Where is the loss of pain?
Where is my release? I’m still suffering.
Please.