Breaking myself.

Wrestling with my own mind.

Battling my demons,

a fight for my possession.

Soul in brutal torment.

This is the expression,

the weight of the weightless,

the side of the suffering.


I never asked for this…

… or did I,

when I prayed for strength?

For what is strength,

if it is not tested?

What is skill,

if it is not needed?

Why do I keep doing

the things that I’m doing;

if not for the war,

the battle,

and the maelstrom.

There will be a storm;

for certain.

There will be hardship;

oh, plenty!

There will be black days,

and blue skies,

and red dawns,

and golden sunsets,

and when it’s all been had;

there will be one last taste

of this life.

I choose not the easiest path,

not the hardest path,

but I strive for an honest one.

I strive for my path.

So I might finish my course with joy,

knowing that I did

what I could while I was here.

I strove to be better.



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