“At times you’ll look back at your past. Make the picture worth your while.”
Or something like that. I wonder if those people ever look back and don’t stumble over a regret. Have they ever thought of things not in terms of regret, but just choices they had to make?
I’m referring to that place where life gets in the way, where fundamentals are crumbled, and regrets make no sense. That smoky, gloomy, silent place where you are trapped for eternity, or maybe that lingers onto you.
Sorry. But today is a heavy-shit day!
Knowing what’s right and what’s wrong is easy. Choosing between them is pretty easy too. Choosing between the good and the better – it’s a trade-off.
But the real part, one that cracks your soul, and leaves you torn beyond repair is when you have to make a choice between the bad and the worse.
When your own conscious is at war.
It’s not that usual battle people talk about being fought between the heart and the brain. It’s one of those, which your actions in a situation have with the principles you have lived by.
Should you go with the flow? Is it fine to let go of what you have clasped close to your chest for so long? Is it time to bend? Or should you just gulp in the pain and be a titanium? Forget anything being legal or ethical. Are you these principles or these choices you’re making? Who are you? What about the baggage? And the haunting?
In midst of all this you even wonder, if anyone, just anyone would ever notice any difference? Or understand your reasons? Let me tell you a little secret, the difference;
’tis only the first step that’s difficult. After that, things will slither in, and begin to feel like your first skin. The previous one has been already shed, already dead.
The coming poetry of mine is dedicated to those wars.
THE WAR WITHIN
They push me back they pull me in
A part of my soul is devil’s skin
I don’t need a hell to be thrown in
It rides on my back and burns within
I don’t fight with them and I won’t
For a good price, my soul, I once sold
An unseen peace now in my kingdom prevails
Since the time, angels began fancying red tails
The sinner is yet on another adventure
Who’ll come to rescue this time, I conjecture
For the devils are busy bathing in milk
And angels trading halo for silk
The soup I had, was meant for one,
They shared it both God and Satan
I am being played, and I feel duped
With all fences broken, who do I run to?
~ Mansi Laus Deo