Muted by the sun. Echoed by the moon. Once again I faced the demons that choked my voice; the demons whose eyes submitted me into constant scrutiny and judgment under their own approval. The demons who’ve granted me freedom on their temporary absence for me to scream out the wails of despair across the land embraced by darkness.
I’ve let the anguish of the dying heart flow like the river of tears. Drenching the soul parched with life and laughter. Yet drowning myself from outburst of suppresed melancholy. I am gasping for air of sanity. I am struggling with my will to live. I raised my arms above me, hoping someone would pull me out of my own misery. But I stayed under, with the light of the sun passing through the spaces of my fingers.
And on my last breath, I sinked deeper into oblivion. I slowly enjoyed the silence it brings. I’ve accepted the coldness embracing my skin. I am contented with the brokenness of my soul. That in my darkness I found my peace.
Then fire breaks, and the demons ain’t letting me slip through. With their claws grasping my neck, they choke my voice; reviving me for another cycle of almost bearable way dying.
I’m tired. And I’m tired of trying.