Sweeping. Rushing.
And all I knew was broken over the waves of this.
Shattered, like the glass surrounding my soul.
I see myself. Fractured. A true mirror.
All the little pieces looking back at me, making me.
And I am one.
And I am many.
Sometimes people look at themselves with such hatred that they burst into flame. When they've burned to ashes their spirit breathes life into the embers from which they arise as a new creation, free of the chains that they'd bound themselves by, free of the lies they'd wrapped their aching hearts in. When nothing's obscuring them they shine a light so others can look at themselves & the masquerade they call life. And if they have any vision left, they burn. I burned.
No comments:
Post a Comment