Some wounds run too deep.
The sounds of cracking bones or the words of petty fools.
I cannot see the scars.
Time has washed them clear.
I cannot feel the shot.
The bullets have long since been removed.
When all I ever wanted was to run away.
Deep in the forests of my own thoughts.
Freedom from the antagonists.
Freedom from myself.
All I ever wanted was to be me.
Life was simpler back then.
Hide, stay low, avoid the common path.
The reward is pain.
Blend in the shadows.
The consequence is absence of pain.
Shadows are made of fear.
Year after year the jungle of pain and shadow.
Starving for something lost in my dreams.
Eating pain to give to the shadows.
Everything is living.
Except for me.
Back to old tricks.
The mirror holds truths for me to see each day.
Shadows in my eyes.
Old habits never die.
Dreams are just dreams.
No closer to being me.
Hiding from the pain.
It lives within me now.
So I do the only thing I know how.