MeowyWoofferson

I stare passed the trickling water. It is a familiar sound; it welcomes me with its usual hospitality of warmth and comfort – but I just stare. I am frozen in one state of mind, one vision, in which I cannot hope to break. My marginalisation of the complexity of fluent cognitive functioning screams at me. Is this human? Shadowed by the darkest desires of my demons, I relish in the last remnants of the sun descending from the sky. As the first banks of sunlight reappear, they do nothing by sneer in distaste, as if ready to hold me back, yet I drift onwards. I am the stringless doll – manipulated to conform to my master, yet it seems the job w

I crave the establishment of imagination, However I feel restrained by my recovery. At a time that now feels abnormal, My emotions soiled the pages with ink. I rely on optimism and stability, Rather than pessimism and fragility. Where are my divine demons? That counselled with cruelness throughout the night. I used to bleed. I used to cry. But now everything's washed away: I do not fear the sun setting, But welcome it through my recovery.

It is not that we live once, But that we die once. We do not have one way of thinking; We do not have one goal we wish to achieve. And what we sometimes wish to be rid of, Will one day claw itself back. This is the cruelling trials we must face, Of whether we are 'good' or 'bad'. Shall we hide our dark secrets, And sucumb to the norms? Living everyday as a lie, Behind our painted complexions. Or shall we rid of them altogether, And start anew? Assuming that all is well, And the past is forgotten. Such a process may frail our minds, And swipe us with guilt or suffering, Nonetheless this cannot be helped. As we are born to l