Sober never seemed like it could ever be so serene, until I was taken outside of myself and forced to accept that all that glitters is not necessarily as beautiful as it might seem. Purified perspective points me in the right direction and paints a picture of a person that I thought long ago had abandoned me and set out to create mass internal destruction. No longer coveting all things covered in the colour black, as I fight back, feeling renewed, more confident in my ability to avert others' acidic attacks. I am not a sheep yet for so long I got lost amongst a failing flock, I am actually Bo Peep, the solo shepherd who controls the block. Removed from my resources, I found the greatest gift of all, resurrected, stronger than ever, no longer weak enough to slip or fall. Once again, I can see the light that had died behind my eyes, assured that I have become someone that I can love, instead of the social pariah I was, that I despised. I am ready to take on any challenge, no hurdle will seem too high, as I prepare myself for the greatest battle of all and set out to defeat the evils that attempt to lead me astray at night. Three weeks is all it took to make me count my blessings, for me to realize that I have been blessed with all the best things. To rant, rave or cry about the problems that I had now seems like the weakest choice, as I have come face to face with a society that shouts but has no voice. Fortunately, for me, I come from a land where I am granted liberty, integrity, and dignity; where humans have value and are not transient vagabonds walking the streets and paid in pity. I am stronger now than ever before, ready as I will ever be to spread my wings and soar, dejected no more, I plan to be the man that I adore and lead myself to victory, in my own personal revolutionary civil war.
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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