There.

Maybe it isn’t worth it after all. These bitter words and these bitten tongues. These digested thoughts and these tempered lungs.

I am still alive.

Over here.

No.

Here.

Yet you look beyond me as I stand on a solid foundation that you’ve helped build. You feel remorse and guilt as if you haven’t done enough. So, the damage continues, literally raking at my shore. So tough. So rough.

So, enough is enough.

Maybe it isn’t worth it after all. The banks are eroding and my teeth have crumbled. My heart is in knots as your demons are humbled.

I am still.

Over here.

No.

Here.

I stand, sometimes alone, but always with your reins licking at my neck. So loud your fear plays! I cannot hear my own voice. I drown a large portion of the sea. The thoughts came in waves and still, a pool in the sand that they call ‘quick’ … is left swirling and churning. Left burning. Left yearning.

For control.

Maybe it is worth it after all. To loosen the ties that bind. To escape you all with a one-track-mind.

I am.

Over there.

Yes.

There.

There, beyond guilt. There, beyond control. There, beyond static. There, beyond doubt. There, beyond conditioning.

Foreshadowing.

Self-fulfilling.

Summoning.

My own.

Life.

 

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