I Would Love To Write
I have always thought the hardest decision is whether to let go or try harder, but lately I am facing a tougher dilemma. Is it better slowly kill or clean break?
So far the slow option isnt working well. I saw in some movie, to kill a huge tree, the poison its roots slowly, till it withers away and falls, dead. I took the idea to heart, literally. started to slowly feed pain to the heart, watching it shrivel. But the stupid heart is strong, stronger than I give it credit for. I mean it has ruled my mind always, but this is too much. Every time I try to stiffle it, its burns for a while, before rising from ashes, with renewed vigour. Making me go stupid and dream about impossible. Till I gain momentary control and feed it poison again. slowly.
Killing it in one shot would be easier. But I dont have the strength. everything said and done, I am nothing but a coward. I cant imagine strangling it. I know it would die, sooner or later, and I wait and watch. Unable to stop, or move. Unable to tear myself away from the gleaming blade, magnificent in its strength and beauty, as it falls, slowly. I wait for the inevitable. I, the one and only, masochistic me.
So far the slow option isnt working well. I saw in some movie, to kill a huge tree, the poison its roots slowly, till it withers away and falls, dead. I took the idea to heart, literally. started to slowly feed pain to the heart, watching it shrivel. But the stupid heart is strong, stronger than I give it credit for. I mean it has ruled my mind always, but this is too much. Every time I try to stiffle it, its burns for a while, before rising from ashes, with renewed vigour. Making me go stupid and dream about impossible. Till I gain momentary control and feed it poison again. slowly.
Killing it in one shot would be easier. But I dont have the strength. everything said and done, I am nothing but a coward. I cant imagine strangling it. I know it would die, sooner or later, and I wait and watch. Unable to stop, or move. Unable to tear myself away from the gleaming blade, magnificent in its strength and beauty, as it falls, slowly. I wait for the inevitable. I, the one and only, masochistic me.
31-35, F