Credit to the Most Difficult Age of my Life
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Credit to the Most Difficult Age of my Life

Renewal

54
Credit to the Most Difficult Age of my Life

Renewal

My brain is constricting, enclosed between two ropes of darkness that intertwine around it.

The blood is diminishing through bulging veins of my mind struggling to travel amongst the surface of my brain, crisscrossing paths creating hieroglyphics of pain.

My most seldom days, do not be astonished to see my pain not deteriorate away.

Because the devil's ropes consistently clench me but that doesn't mean that Im not trying with the painful ache of my disheveled heart to fight again.

To be seen fighting by observance is a rare occurrence to humanity.

All the lies and crumpled scraps of memory rest in my crowded trash can of knowledge, as I always disguise the true depiction of my realistic life.

You would think the web of antidepressants would capture my thoughts in their chemical entrapment.

But they can't .

Because they were not constructed to be the true abduction of manifesting thoughts but rather a dreaded routine in which I am struggling to revert my direction.


My body molds into a sculpture of a disheveled figure lying on my bed.

The buzzing noises in my ears swiftly arise and I don't have time to focus on breathing so my mind collapses and rolls down this mountain of truth that I consistently face.

Sweaty hands and the flooding of my tears shakes my bed which was very still before like the rhythm of my breathing.

I bellow a cry and there is nothing more painful and beautiful than the voice of frustration and the longing for hope combined.

There's no bruise like the bruise loneliness kicks into my spine, lingering both day and night.


Who has a cape around their heart to aid in my escape from these twists and turns of destructive art ?

The chandelier of my faith is hanging by a thread.

Some days my hot smile looks like a gutter on a fallen house but my hands are always holding on tight to the ripped cord of believing this life can be rich, like the soil can make food and decay turn wound into high weight.

As my focus shifts to this positive escape, the pain and anxiety will control me less each consecutive day.

I will plow through the hovering walls surrounding my mind and allow my imagination and talent to transpire into a seed of future knowledge and inspiration , that each lost soul will one day use as a reference to their own plantation.

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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