These endless tears flow from my eyes and pierce through the paper canvas of my life. As hard as I try to paint with vibrancy and colour, the blacks and whites overpower my wishes, revealing the sadness that lies dormant, and is undercover. Every step forward often results in several leaps back, this process repeats until I no longer have the strength to fight back. Empty vessel heart of mine that overflows and leaves me inept, carelessly reveals the emotions that I have tried so hard to repress. I know that I am stronger, I have taken beatings worse than this, yet despite the knowledge that I possess the power of Thor, somehow, something remains amiss and leaves me yearning for more. It consistently pulls me into the darkest abyss, that tears up my insides, and uncovers the memories which I refuse to relive or reminisce. I am only human, there is only so much I can take before I am filled with thunder, and the anger within awakes. It shakes me to my core, causing earthquakes and tremors that roar, but in the end, I am all that I abhor upon coming to the realization that I have become my own rage's repugnant whore. So what now? Do I fight the urge within that makes me want to pull each hair out of my head strand by single, sickening strand? Or do I take a stand, and ensure that I will rise the better man? I am a king, yet I choose to live like a peasant. I was born with wings, yet I crawl on the ground with all that is unpleasant. I refuse, as of right now, to allow this to ensue. No more bitterness, or blues, no giving in to the remorse or guilt that have the capacity to leave me dazed and confused. From this very moment, I vow to make the change that I will not engage in the dance of the deranged. I am strong enough to mend, and once again, promise myself that I will be my very own best friend.
Time stood still for nary a soul, it dragged its feet, aching and old. Blistering heat that made us melt, we were once softer than silk felt. Hallowed hearts wind whistled through, covered in bruises, black and blue. Hardly broken, but maybe bent, running on empty and love spent. There comes a day in all our lives, when our failures cut deep as knives. But you shall remain a triumph, you stayed with me, like a science. Words were whispered, curses, we'd shout, until the blood drained from our mouths. Yesterday—softer than silk felt; seems like all we do these days is yell.
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