Shackled Possessions

I’m a prisoner of my own emotions, not listening to reason or logic, following the traps of guaranteed turmoil.

Its war inside me, a struggle I chose to keep secret with no avenue to express this hurt yet the more I conceal, the more I drown.

My existence is a fish flailing out of water gasping for oxygen caught in a hurricane on the side of a mountain, a comical yet sad scene.

Yet I love the way you look at me, unable to see the vulnerability behind these sad eyes, the facade that is my life.

I know my role, a jester, a fisherman, a leech that feeds on the acknowledgment of others. A child waiting for my being to have value.

If I am not to love then what I am to be? If am not to fight then what should I stand for? If I am not to be then who should I breathe for?

If ignorance is bliss yet inaction is sin. Then I am a sinner living in a dystopian world with the only refuge being your smile.

If you could do it all again, would you? If you could freeze a flowing river, would you? If you could stop the tears from rolling down your cheek, would you?

If fate was led me down this path then I was the one that characterised it. I chose to be the jester, the fisherman, the leech.

It was all worth it to live in that second. For our eyes to reach, your lips to bend and my heart to splinter. To treasure that second, that would be my greatest possession.

Mongolia 790


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