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i have been wrong, i have wronged.

Is it all unfair? The way we pass on the traits that matter least to others, and yet those actions don’t fail to create an impact that is surely felt. Inside, we always realize our limits of time, and space them in-between the moments of pain or hatred from the ones that make us feel. I taste our sweet fears together that betray our lust in forever, bittersweet amidst all the decaying we are prey to, and our fallen gods to whom we pray to. Bittersweet are our memories of forever spent wanting and waiting for the inevitable outcome, an outcry from the inside, and mind dies so sweetly. That I can’t begin to not hold back this precious that I have left, not in sacks of skin so deep and so wet, but in the changing ways that leave your breath less. I cannot simply weep, or I would have, long ago. No, sorrow is the feast I’ve weighed in to eat, and to throw in all my spent bones and feats. Weary leaves one without the breath to catchup, and I challenge myself to make that end goal, to make it a reality to look forward to. I have broken myself far enough, and yet there is so much farther to go, my loyalties broken but not my soul. The cries are unheard for even I have turned my back to the sounds of my own struggle as I have crept the halls and stairs up and down, but to no avail, save that real ease that fails to release my person. My mask is a serious face, though I am not unkind, and I whisper like a ghost in the wind. You may not know me, but you know me for who I am, what I do. This I have made so by my strength of will, I have created this world I have found myself within, and taken no regrets at the actions that lead me here. I am truly yours to behold.

Thanks, khet.