A Letter To Self

To endure time without hope, without trust, without love. He’s dramatic, he knows but he’s up for the role. Once upon a time, a grave danger threatened his home, his innocence stripped – ridden with marks of control. Lost and without a voice, he laid bare, withering in sight of hope.  

And herein lies the first of many – an involuntary sorry state of affairs – I hope you’re ready. Take to the stage and remember to smother our ego, lean on what you know and you’ll be just fine. Omit what you please and remember, the stage is yours.  

After all, it’s just a game till sudden death – what’s next in the life after this ordeal here? Peace, a voice-force of innocence – see, I still don’t know what it means. But without hope, love and trust, its warmth will continue to evade the stranded soul.

Uncertain, you fight the urge to think otherwise. Filtered through the eye of the beholder, the ignorant fool, boisterous in his attempt to tek yuh fi eeediat. And so, in fear you tame – submerged in your thoughts, you limit your ability to heal, to breathe. Through your nose and out through the mouth lies the following steps. 

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