It’s Real


It’s not a figment of my imagination the pain is real and it’s never been stronger,but this pain, this pain is different it’s beyond those I’ve encountered before, surpassed what I knew or ever could comprehend. It’s like a chronic illness that promises much more than mere sickness, it declares death. It’s covetous and spoilt It insists, its need of being acknowledged.  An ardent parasite; growing immensely, spreading rapidly, vacuuming away joy, hopes, dreams and aspirations, demanding to inflict control of my already corrupted life. Wanting to bring me to my knees, to bow down to acknowledge that it reign and I’m defeated. Whoever thought pain after all that it does would care about family- it brought them in to stay. In comes his mother memories and his father nightmare, struggling behind is depression making her way to her newly discovered room in my head where she can taunt and torture me with suicidal thoughts and endless jeers. Then hatred runs in with swords and slashes the pieces of my heart-, once, twice, three times – he likes it there because it’s black and broken, torn and ripped apart he looks around and nod as if to say it’s perfect bro this will be my new room, but how much more hate can be filled in this room I asked myself and the memories spilled forward dancing before my mind’s eye, my nightmares were awakened , the winds of depression blew and I screamed begging her to subside. Stand down I scream stand down, but they were relentless, more memories, more hurt, then pain flew in like a tempest and destroyed every part of me and hate bubbled over and my entire being became poisoned and I fell to my knees, heavy with the weight I carried and all I could do is cry because I’ve become a shell of what I used to be and a slave to the things that now controlled my life.


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