I write of darkness that inhales my light. I pen rays of hope that drown in tides of tears I refuse to share. I quietly ponder my future while burying myself in a past I cannot forgive. I stand, valiantly. I fall, weary. I crawl, desperately. I fade, vehemently.
Only to flare again. The words won’t back down. But they refuse to pour out. I ignore the static, tuning my heart to the rhythm of syllables breathed without sound, but in meaningful volume. Blindfolded against the touch of ghosts. Bound in stark colors, streaming.
I write. I weep (invisibly). I hum untruths of my enemy. I bleed out mortal vulnerabilities.
©Rediscovered and rewritten 07/2019
These words did not refuse to pour out. Beautiful, Dana! Powerful.
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Thank you, Dave.
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Just wonderful!
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Thank you, Scott.
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