Journeying #Prose

From knowing pain more than faith
To refusing hope and whatever it brings
To always taking doubtful steps forward
To then have the strength to run back to the past
To suffocating while still breathing
To craving for peace while holding on to demons.

From having an abusive affair with fear
To dragging the weight of shame around town
To being a closeted antisocial
To desiring the power of invisibility
To being quite jealous of the wind
To forgetting my way back home.

From losing my voice shouting at the moon
To allowing some negative thoughts to bloom
To overfeeding my gluttonous inner critic
To then survive on anything toxic
To take in whatever life throws
To also aid them in magnifying my flaws.

From denying myself everything
To partially die while trying
To please everyone else who ain't me
To helping tighten their ropes around my neck
To then find myself coiling inwardly when they point
To finally giving up my tormented soul.

From raising from some forgotten ashes
To wielding fountains of crude ink
To then refine them into heartbreaking stanzas
To sharing their raw pain on your screens
To keeping some away from the outside eyes
To then become hopefully of healing self.

AD_Images/Pixabay.

Even if life does a number on me, words always bring me back from the dead. Words are how I defy these unnatural continuous deaths while crossing my fingers that they keep me for keeps.

Cross Published.

BQ.