There are some realities too sacred, too tender, to be spoken of in mere sentences… reduced to a string of silent syllables and enshrined in unspoken monologues

Rather, I feel my truth sink in, out, and up through every fiber of my being… through swaying to the hum of the mundane and the rhythm of the everyday… because, after all, there is nothing quite so beautiful as the pure dance of the intertwining yet sacred melodies of the tormented soul.

Marching, forward
In perfect unison.

Still, I look back.
Not with regret, but with sacred remembrance…
Knowing that I can not live the same hell twice


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