It is a spot I have become close acquainted with
My face upon the floor; battered, muddied Trembling hands the only sign of life My body crumpled beneath the weight I bear The weight I have brought upon myself All my decisions have thrown me to where I lie And the force of their impact Pushes me deeper and deeper into the earth I am a crater of poor choices Digging even farther, until this crater becomes a grave I raise my hand to the sky Above the horizon of this hole I am in Quaking, calling out for help But I am too far down to be heard My hand calls out in vain If it be my decisions that have brought me here Then it seems that I am the only one Who is capable of clawing my way from this craggy coffin It is in this coffin that I return to my homeland No fallen hero from the war, no flag draped ceremonially in commemoration I return in a disheveled box, nailed clumsily together Planks of warped wood befitting a warped man such as I On this sunny, summer afternoon When they leave me on the doorstep of my family Away from the world, away from the mistakes of the past In this place I am called out to by a faintly familiar voice And am offered a new life Renewal, it claims, a revival from inadequacy The option to break free from the old me This is your second chance A chance to rise from this grave you have dug To become a better man I am desperately sinking my shaking hands into the ground Struggling with every clasping motion But simultaneously, becoming more powerful with each movement Slowly pulling myself to the edge of my inadequacy Day by day, growing closer Until the day when I have the strength to pull myself from this place To stand above the mistakes of the past Triumphant, revived The man I was meant to be, all this time
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Author"Anything I can not transform into something marvelous, I let go. Reality doesn't impress me. I only believe in intoxication, in ecstasy, and when ordinary life shackles me, I escape, one way or another. No more walls." - Anais Nin Archives
February 2023
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