And here I find myself preempted, as though a stretch were trapped in my limbs, but confinement won’t allow for expression. Stymied, I rail in consternation, the fear of never being able to speak my mind, to broaden myself beyond a horizon that should have faded from sight in a rear view mirror long ago. Incrementally, my fear gives way to anger.
It is rage, it is righteous and it is tempting.
But it won’t just burn those I direct it at, fire knows nothing of favouritism.
If I give in to hate, I have to live within the ashes.
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