The road stretches out, endlessly, a golden mile too far,
that the thought of moving forward
is as appealing as yesterday’s feast,
congealed and encrusted in the sink,
the remains now lying rotten at the pit of your stomach
in the breaking dawn.
For your soul is just too scarred
to see the beauty of the mountain range hovering on the horizon,
and the wounds too raw to appreciate
the fresh sea air drifting just past their peak.
And by a force not your own,
you slow down, come to a halt
at the roadside at the edge of tall waving grass.
You open the door,
not bothering to close it behind you,
and start walking into the wilderness.
Slowly, tentatively at first,
then your steps start to quicken.
Faster and faster.
Each stride longer than the last
as you try to outrun
all the thoughts whirling in your head,
to leave behind the memories,
the words that still echo in your ear,
the touch of the hand that's still warm on your back,
and the tears that flowed freely down your cheeks,
as recently as today.
And you come to halt at the furiously flowing river.
You stare at the torrent and the angry rushing water,
and you wonder if you'll take that step,
into the maelstrom of oblivion.
To bring an end to the infinite torture your mind has subjected you to,
induced by the realisation
that that which you’ve lived
was the design of another’s creation,
and you were just along for the ride,
while they operated the controls.
You were but a puppet
at the hands of the master of manipulation and deception,
which you were too naïve,
And the thought of redeeming their soul
and to carry on is just too much to bear,
too much to put behind,
so you take that step into the yielding, ice-cold mud
as the wind tears at your hair
and the skies cry with you
and you wait for the current
to lay claim to your soul,
as you welcome the coming silence.
It’s time to go home…
picture credit: http://fc03.deviantart.net/fs39/i/2008/314/1/9/Movements_between_the_silence_by_vampire_zombie.jpg