Besieged.

The stars illuminated the sky, shining brighter than I had ever seen, though my innocence prevented me from suspecting they were warning me.  I lay my head down and slipped into the sweetest sleep before I was deceived by my own dreams.  In my deep slumber, I was oblivious to your men scaling my castle walls.  First there were two, then ten, then fifty armed men, ready to risk their lives until my fortress fell.  Your cowardice compelled you to attack with the moon as your accomplice, though even twilight could not conceal your poor sportsmanship.  Under siege under the stars with all of my knights in their beds, you set fire to my vulnerability then watched as my world burned.  I was forced awake as smoke filled my lungs, gasping for air as I became aware of your invasion.  My pride and stubbornness refused to be taken down without a fight, as I became more alert with every moment of that critical night.  Your cruel crusade was no match for my logic or reason, as I rounded up my men, determined to crucify you for your treason.  I will not be violated by one so weak and especially not whilst I am asleep.  You underestimated me for the last time and now I will show you what sets us apart.  With all of your support captured by mine, I search for you wildly through the inferno that ravages my home.  I find you cowering in fear, the most pitiful sight I have ever seen.  Your nature is exposed, only deserving of sympathy.  I set you free, for you are already imprisoned by your fear to live.

Haunted.

I wonder where you are and what you’re doing, curious to know who’s loving you.
You invade my thoughts pervasively without warning, like an atomic bomb, each memory annihilates the landscape of my serenity.  I suppress my urge to reminisce about your cancerous kiss, now convinced that we were never meant to be.  The chemicals between us reacted so violently, that every turn led us to catastrophe.  Infiltrated by images of you, my sanity becomes diseased.  Deflated, I died a thousand times with you, tolerated your abuse for far too long.  Yet still the burning question remains of how I could still care for you, an emotion whose guilt cuts me like a guillotine.  Held hostage by the hostility that has locked itself inside my head and thrown away the key, your misery preferred my company.  Freedom from you is my fondest dream, a fantasy so frequent that it feels like reality though the truth remains that your toxicity infected my bloodstream.  Critically ill now as I slip in and out of consciousness, as my heart hopes that I imagined you and that you did not exist.  I close my eyes for the last time with eternal sunshine in my newly spotless mind, you have been erased as my elated soul floats up to outer space.

Ignorance.

I search the playgrounds of my past, distraught, hoping to locate the innocence I somehow lost.  I grieve for the little boy that believed mankind was inherently good.  In my rush to grow up, I raced through my childhood, though I now hunger for the purity that I shed too soon, replaced by the maturity which I had misunderstood.  Once I was exposed to the evil that has always coexisted in the world, my heart hardened unwilling to accept that I was now a flightless bird.  Subjected to abuse in every form, I began to think that I was solely capable of being scorned.  I would bathe in the hopes that my disdain would be swallowed by the drain; my contempt corroded my faith in humanity, as I allowed myself to be overcome by the darkness inside of me.  Instances of injustice around the world threw me over the edge, as I mourned for my innocence that was now dead.  Powerless, I conformed to the ugliness that surrounded me, hostility and hatred worked hand in hand to devour me behind the scenes.  I became a product of my perceived environment, lashing out with anger at anyone that pleaded for me to let them in.  The fire in my heart raged on destroying everything that got in its way; my conflict with myself escalated into a war with many casualties.  My soul was restless as it tried many times to escape, desperate for the innocence I left behind so long ago.   Estranged from love, I was now barren yet my ire continued to grow.  My infertile mind refused to fathom that any semblance of good could possibly remain despite all of the famine, greed and disease by which our hearts were stained.   Imprisoned by my inability to admit that good and bad were subjective terms, I obsessed about the extinction of morality and ethics.  Hypnotized by the media’s propagated portrayal of the disastrous and tragic, I was inconsolable as I questioned whether our problems would ever be fixed.  Suddenly I heard a voice as faint as falling snow reminding me to look deeper and find the helpers.  Incredulous that my conscience had stayed despite my relentless desire for detriment, I accepted its advice and set out in search of evidence that beauty still remained.  On my quest for good, I became amazed by foreign aides that emanated love like saints; humbled by humanitarians and helpers united by their desire to end world pain.  Grasping tightly onto these glimmers of light that illuminated the dark, my blackened heart was slowly becoming vibrant as I witnessed acts of unconditional love.  Through terrorism and torture, trials and torment, there was still love and light though good was overlooked replaced by tragedy.  With every disaster, I remember that there are always altruists that aim to ease the endless sorrow; with every evil act, many unite to ensure it is the last.    The innocence I lost made me wiser in the end, as it equipped me with the same objectivity that I employ with family, foe or friend.

Asceticism.

With each breath it becomes clearer that I have only now just started to live, ungrateful for so long, each day arrived and left with my unwillingness to accept that one of them could be my last.  I lived in the playgrounds of my past and in the fantasies of my future as though the present was a hindrance to the dreams of days that may never even arrive.  On auto-pilot as I raced towards false notions of success, failing to appreciate the beauty passing by in my rear view.  The gift of life, itself, was collecting dust from neglect forgotten on a shelf, ignored as I chased material possessions that I believed would define my worth. Mansions and Mercedes revered more than nature in all its glory, as the pages of my life were filled with greed, until encountering the worst and best of humanity helped me rewrite my story.  Seeing third world poverty up close helped wake me up, as I was conditioned to think having nothing was a tragedy; until I looked closer and realized that devoid of wealth, these people were far happier than the richest men that I have met.  We are programmed to reach higher, strive for more even when our cup is overflowing; this ideology breeds an endless cycle of dissatisfaction.  Never happy because we are taught to try harder than we already have, we begin to self-destruct under the incredible weight of inadequacy.  We idealize the elite for the fortunes they have amassed, and criticize the weak for the success they seem to lack.  Asceticism is no match for the American dream that is in reality a nightmare, the false promise of wealth for all leaves us oppressed and unhappy.  I was merely content for far too long, fixated on fame at any cost; the reminder of my own mortality through loss was all it took to remind me of the many ways in which I am blessed.  To forget the miracle of life, that we essentially die every night to be revived by the sunlight or that every atom inside of me has a purpose that my ego chose to deny.  The only guarantee we have is that our hearts will one day beat no more, each new day that I am revived fills me with awe and gratitude for having been reborn.