No.230: Dark Roots
do you ever try
to write the rogue voices out of your mind,
to make magic from madness,
to turn your tears into wine?
I wouldn't recommend it--
this drink tastes more like water and ashes,
like a burning bandage.
I can manage
like I always have.
but this song is getting old, I've outgrown,
yet, if there's only one thing I know,
it's that wildfires of the soul
always come with a dose of smoke.
you can get the hydrant,
but the damage takes its toll,
the air spreads and chokes,
and suddenly, you start to think
the voices are your own,
and their words are true.
and suddenly, the darkness you scoffed at starts to look
there is no easy road out of a pit
when the pit
there is only one way through.
the bandages and hot glue and projections and tantrums and backroads
won't pull you out any sooner.
you have to go backward
and dig for the root.
face the monster
until one of you becomes the truth.
it gets worse before it gets better,
but how soon
will depend on you.