Chainsaw gut-rot

Angry and irritable and heartbroken, plus several other emotions all mixed up together in a rusty bucket.

(the anger is on top.)

Brought on by this boy's own self..... some might call it self-sabotage...all that was necessary for daily joy was a little face paint...a little cow-towing to the powers that be....a little sucking out of what makes the boy who he is.

Strong in his conviction that a person should not be judged for what is on the outside, but for what lies beneath...

Honour. Dedication. Loyalty. Determination. Strength. Tenderness. Truth.

He holds fast and at the same time he feels the boat rocking beneath him. He has to adjust his footing so that he stays upright...so he does not fall weeping into the darkness.

If only- he thinks-....if only those in power could look at what they have in front of them before they decide to shut the window.

They seal themselves in a concrete bunker, devoid of natural light, dusty, and the boy is now on the outside, looking in; a thin sheet of truth separating him from that which was in his grasp. He is watching this play out in front of his eyes- he is in the middle of it- that which was once his is no longer, because he made a choice. In truth, it was never his to begin with...it was on loan.

Everything he has is on loan. Every day he tries to find the good in it.

He made his proverbial bed.

He has come full circle.

He had let it all go once before...he remembers the last visit all those years ago, wishing he had not taken so much for granted. At least this time, each day was appreciated. Each moment was a recorded-in-his-heart joy. Perhaps it will be easier to let go this time around.

It is not all over, but it is shifting.

He lays his cheek against the softest nose and smiles to himself.