I was willing to ignore the flashing, red lights, so I could only see the parts of you I wanted to see. Yet snippets of revelation of the darkness I perceived to be light had befallen me until I could finally see you for who you truly were. You were the darkness, prowling to taint my innocence.
I escaped you. At least, I thought I did. I thought I was finally done with you. So many thoughts, thoughts, thoughts. I'm sure I thought so much that I thought my way back to you again. Different person, same spirit. Different situation, same-old cycle.
The way things began was never good to begin with. The bells were going off in my head. The dreams and visions were snippets of revelation I could not fully comprehend until I grew tired. I could no longer ignore that voice inside telling me to run, gasping for air. If I stayed longer, if I ignored every sign from the Lord, I would further be ensnared. And I finally had enough sense in my head to know that I couldn't do that to myself anymore. I wasn't made to run in circles, day and night.
I was almost willing—almost willing—to suffocate for the sake of your love. But I realized I didn't need to suffer to be tolerated by you.
I almost thought my gentle nature was a weakness. That, because of you, I had to be 'tougher'. Then sense struck my thick skull. Thorns and bristles didn't have to roll off my tongue to deliver my message. My words didn't have to bruise to be respected. There's a time to be gentle and to be firm.
I was a teenager, young and pure at an age most would rebel. But as someone who doesn't fear much, I was so terrified of rebelling. To be more specific, I was afraid of a little black dye all because I listened to the wrong voice.
You knew that and you hurt me. Over and over again, you hurt me.
But a wise woman told me I didn't need a covering to be guided and loved. And the people I hadn't known all my life could be more of my family than my family ever could.
Of course, I have no one but myself—I'm still lonely. I wasn't sure if I could accept this at first. I didn't know how to deal with it. But now, I don't mind at all. It's completely okay. It's fine with me.
YOU ARE READING
Deep Within My Soul
Poetry"Perhaps that's why I don't care greatly for revenge; a man's guilty conscious is a plate served by and to himself and no one can serve it better than him." A collection of introspective short stories and poetry.
