It’s all quiet now. It’s cold. The only thing steadily changing within myself is the passion I once had. It’s cooling off now. I look at the wounds tonight, to have a sense of the damage last many years caused.
The wound – once a fresh cut, is now festering; and once a festering cut, is now scarring. Its growing inward with a soft yet durable raised shell to protect the newer skin within. Just as I once held the venomous will to fight, wreak havoc and defend my actions, now is lost to self-pity.
The passion, there, no longer fresh, but festering— boiling in my blood and ripping me in half.
The yelling, screaming and fits of rage begin to scar. It’s healing now. That is a good sign, or is it?
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"Sometimes people come into your life and you know right away that they are meant to be there; they serve some sort of purpose, teach you a lesson, or help you figure out who you are."
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