Who knows why this is happening. The pain. Cold sweats. Numbness in my limbs and heart. All while I lay, deserted, on a bed I’ve made in the middle of a warzone with a smile…
One question does pop up all the time, though. Was that a mistake? I think not. Because, regardless of each sting my soul feels from each shard of glass within this glasshouse forcing me to taste my own blood as I sip my tea every morning, that taste becomes sweeter than victory as soon as it hits the back of your tongue…
There’s a level of patience you reach when you let the storm pass instead of allowing it to sweep you away. An appreciation for life is gained even if breathing is as hard as it once was to believe better days are coming. And, in a world slowly ravaged by its own perpetual folly, you’ll be glad you stuck it out with both fists pumped and ready for any foolishness in their way…
Maybe, there truly is peace within the struggle, after all. Otherwise, how would I have lived to tell about my escape from eternal damnation by the sweet sounds of silence…
m3l0dicverse 
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