• samuelstormbringer 6w

    The superfluous road I walk upon is a shaky scene from a movie I dreaded watching. The newness of my tremble is drowning me every second as the bell of my impending doom calls me. I trudged behind the shoulder of my father, his approval I seek but the things I need to do to get there is too high to me to reach.

    I'm afraid of my newness. This bewildering sense of fear that grows like a flower, blooms day by day. I am not meant to be someone, yet I am one. One with the people who don't believe in themselves. Too afraid to do anything about it.

    The squall of torture, self pity and the void of happiness that breeds at the precipice of hell is the only thing I want to feel.

    I know if I hurt myself I will feel alive.

    The singing of Merry Men a mellifluous tone as I walk a path of no return.

    I turn around to see what I have done. I turn around to see the people I worked so hard to make them smile.

    I want to see people smile and I'm okay if I don't smile back. The sheer joy I feel whenever I see them is sometimes what I need.

    I'm confused of what I am.

    New things I am scared of.

    Old things, I'm terrified.

    Where is my place? What is my place? What is new and what is old?

    I don't want to answer them, I'm here. Standing up for this dread that I feel. And maybe someday, I might grow old and become bold.

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    Of New Things And Old Things

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