i pressed onward even as the miles flaunted their betrayal. not sober enough to care. too angry to hear. those voices that chase us when we run.
tugging on the knots as the ceiling opened up. gathering stones. to weight the corpses.it's not really a storm unless there's a flood. the words aren't true until some blood is shed.
we're so raw when we need someone. it's unforgivable when that skin is torn off.
sometimes there is light. others it is dark. we pretend we can see regardless.. but the truth is we live most of our lives blind.
we can be strong. we often are. collecting our villains like trophies. spending those moments like candy. disregarding the voices that would make us small.