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Shield of Hate

She used to tell me I should try to write happier

things. Then again, she used to tell me she

loved me. I ran. I ran because it is all I’ve ever

known. I ran because my mother ran and my

father didn’t care enough to show me another

way. I was force taught that anger was bad and

there is no just reason to show it. I ran.

Armour of Wisdom

Memories of a soul now gone. I quit drugs

because they controlled my emotions. Now I

drink to drain them away. Drugs took from me

all the reasons I had to care. Everyday I wake

one step further from the world that made me.

I cannot tell what that means. I may be

becoming who I was meant to be. Though, it

might just mean I’ll never be the same.

Sword of Knowledge

We glamourize the survival of hell and high

water. We never ask what remains after the

journey. Memories of pain and friends we

cannot trust. Maybe it is this way because I

failed. It is possible that survivors are left with

something else entirely. I only feel lost when I

am at home. Is this wanderlust or a deep self

loathing? Could it be that only the defenseless

attack first?