Regression, often my greatest weapon when I feel defensive cheapens my thrills and makes me immune to confession. I crawl into another layer of skin to avoid the sinking feeling that I am covered in sin then build my castle walls higher to prevent myself from caving in. Instead of learning the lesson that lies in front of me, I choose to circumflect and tip toe around the misery. Regret comes when you fail to learn from your mistakes, repeating the same patterns that result in getting burned at the stake. Wise beyond my years, my foresight ensures that I bend but never break yet something beneath the surface aches to put an end to the artificiality of being fake. Obsessing day and night about the changes that I need to make, perpetually planning and calculating ways to protect myself from heartbreak. Midnight falls accompanied by the clarity I crave, I rant, I rave although I do not take the steps to see that my soul is saved. I age backwards, racing counter clockwise to gain security, there is method to my madness as I am running to spare myself from obscurity. I run faster then jump higher traveling back to the time that I was carefree, breathe deeper, laugh harder as it becomes clear that I am really only running away from me. Haunted by my past and frightened by my future, my present is my pride provoking prize but I keep tearing out its sutures. Living in three places at once creates chaos and confusion, as I must seize the day and stop living in my head assuming that it will cushion my falls and clear away contusions. I need to remind myself that I am only human, infallible and often accident prone though I have thrived for so long expecting my best without being cognizant of the misdeeds for which I have yet to atone. So no more turning ticking time's hands backwards as I retract further into my shell, I can no longer romance regression's sultry spell that has sent me spiraling towards my own personal Hell. Onwards and upwards I march towards higher ground, lost no more I have regained the strength that will slowly save me from myself and ensure that I am found.
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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