Even though there are a lot of predicaments, his soul chants. Even though life drained his soul of iron, he won’t succumb to living by default.

I found myself drowning in a swamp of hostility. As I listen to my intuition it tells me that writing is my audibility. It is an escape from calamity. They can judge my decisions, but they can never mute my thoughts. As you fight shadows, he prays not to die because the biggest demise is losing ourselves to the world.

Even though storms and thunder became my thoughts and gradually mutilated my heart, I refuse to lose sight. They can nod their heads, but the internal conflict is destructive, leaving me alienated and alone on the outskirts of life.

I am not seeking pity because I am slowly making peace with my residual self. Even though leaving the house makes me paranoid, I gradually battle the unseen. Living in a scope of choices. If you have never been in the furnace I won’t expect you to understand my methods.


Tell us: What do you think of this piece?