Poetry
Some say you find yourself late at night. When all the light is gone and the good people are resting for tomorrow, the real you is exposed. It happens without thought. As if it was in the back of your mind this whole time; a mask that comes off as easy as it was to put on. And when you’ve found yourself, or yourself finds you, the problems that are real surface. The ones you’ve joked about your entire life, but never wanted to face. Those demons which lurked within your heart and under your skin take form into the monsters of your childhood. But this time the vampires and werewolves have been replaced with money and death. Things you never gave a second thought about now have you by the ears and the secrets they whisper can bring life or death to your eyes. Somewhere in this panic attack you remember why you take those sleeping pills. To overdose to sleep seems a far better fate then the state you’re in now. To sleep now would be better, to close the eyes that have taken in too much.
So what do I say? What do I do? The hands I’ve used to fix my face and pick up my broken body are gone. The second wind has lifted from me in favor of a sky that has no problems. And somewhere in this blackness I have walked into, there is hope? The thought seems laughable really. To think that someone as dull, fake, rusty, and evil as me could taste a flavor such as hope is more a comedy then a non-fiction in my mind. I hear words like “savior” and “grace” and people mix them together like vanilla and strawberries. I’ve never been a fan of strawberries or being fake, but with this aroma filling my lungs of the knowledge of my true self and the road it is taking me, I can’t help but to think that maybe I’ve missed something vital. A man born full of love for a person as selfish as me, a child with grace to spread over a wretched man such as me, a God whose whispers split seas and rock the foundations searches for me?
Some say you find yourself late at night. That’s hard to do if you have no clue who you are or what you are doing. But maybe I’ve been thinking too much? It could be the answer. To except love instead of war, to embrace the idea of hope instead of the smut I eat, to live with a peace that I could actually spell out with my own hands, these could be mine if I could just get over the one thing that has plagued me from the first moment I opened my eyes and cried; if only I could conquer the vampire I call my heart.
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