Dirty Snakes

Writing

I’ve been feeling as if I’m trapped within a cycle of continuous irritations and struggles that I can’t comprehend enough to stop myself from repeating the same action over and over.

Thick bars of cold rusted iron surround the images that have been detained within the ego of the inner child that dwells deep within me. The bars that have trapped the images of beautiful silence and maturity, being scraped and reinforced by the demon that seems to escape my grasp. I began to feel my knees get weak in support and I fell to the ground around me. The stress reaching out to my chest and tightening its dark clutch; I find it sad how I feel a lack of motivation to get up off the ground and dust off the shame and pity that covered me.

People covered in scales and tongues forked at the bright pink tip. They slither upon the cornerstones of the beaten blocks of the street corners of the neighborhood. Snakes sniffing out success and anything that will feed their hunger to feast off of the shine and happiness of others that strives to become something greater. What’s greater than growing to be a human being with purpose and position? Knowing that you no longer have snakes lying around in the land you stroll across.

Trying to compose my thoughts as I sit in my dark room contemplating what I do to better my own life, and the community around me. Night after night thoughts flood my mind; taunting me almost as if I have failed myself in some way; trying to figure out what I have become in my day to day life. Have I truly accomplished any goals? Have I rid myself of the childishness or even attempted to cut away the scales and tongues at the snakes that lurk around me.

Yet night after night, I am bound to question myself repeatedly, what am I doing for the world? Or better yet. What is my purpose for writing words? What have my words ever done to improve or better anyone’s personal life?

Covered in shame and filth, I still stand upon cracked and crudely constructed ground. I find it strange how I don’t know the truth on why I still stand; if I were to be struck down by any force I would feel no need to ever stop it. I have no will to die, but if I felt I were going to. I would let the moment happen.

So why do I refuse to lie down and allow darker thoughts hold on to me? I suppose, I have this unyielding urge to finally take charge and start decapitating the snakes that have long lurked.

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