There are always times and situations in life when it seems that no matter what and how much we do, it is never quite going to be enough….
Time when all trustworthy and good intentions are dismissed by paranoia and fear, regardless of everything speaking in their favour. And usually for no better reason than a bruised ego…
Everyone loses this way. Stubbornness and pride leads only to hurt and loneliness. Odd that it is so difficult to see that it isn't about being perfect or not making mistakes, but instead about how one navigates the bumps in the road as they occur. I guess we all struggle with that.
There will be no offer of asylum, no yielding or surrender. My lips are smeared in blood. My hands still clawed to fists. My eyes still sweeping nervously over the empty arena. I am all but withdrawn in the ruins of my den, concealed to hide from it… that one thing which haunts me… relentlessly hunting me down, getting ready to strike again.
The fangs unfold as the end draws near. Another battle to be fought. Over and over again, I hear it, coaxing me to leave the den. If you want me come in and get me. Behold, the scars and wounds inflicted by the mastery of ignorance and spite – my own and others'.
They are fools to believe a word would make a difference. I am not looking for words. I don't need to see it spelled out or heard it spoken repeatedly. I believe what I can see. The hands that reach out to me in the dark… do they grab and pound on me, or offer reassurance and comfort? The eyes that look for me so desperately,… do they sparkle with hatred and resent, or with tears of anguish?
Can you feel it? Comprehend it? Encompass it? Can you? Do you believe I can? Does it make a difference now? What am I to think now… what am I to think?
“A whisper of enticing vows, sweet-talking deceit and betrayal. I recognize the face of my assassin, and the cloak of trust and honesty. That was its disguise. And then this twofaced word… contradicting everything but itself. What am I to think?”