Dum Spiro Spero

Growing pains

The way the light shines sideways on a blade is sharp enough to cut through the echoes of tension pulsing from the dark corner of existence.

So powerful and loud that it could shatter a mirror into a thousand years. Leaving sand of shards on the floor as the shore washes my remains into the abyss.

Letters spell misfortunate words in brail in my mind. Letters left by the ones who said that forever would never come. But nothing is eternal. Including the dying love of a naïve baby.

Sometimes after shedding my skin again I want to stay naked and cold. Letting the raining knifes cut me open. Letting the rivers of blood paint patterns and pictures like a canvas around my mutilated corpse.

Life is a comedy written by a psychopath in an asylum. Dancing and finger painting in his own leakage across the walls gallantly and free. Unbound by nature itself.

Sanity is a choice. No wonder I'm still waiting for an answer.