The Past

Surrounded by tall, giant trees that dominate my eyes in a body too tiny in the expanse of these woods. I run away from them, my heart thumping so loud that even the wild siren could be heard no more. Oh the past! The puppeteer to my present! It’s fierce fingers curling upon my heart sucking every bit of happiness leaving me shattered into numerous shards of my heart. Every shard like glass penetrates into my soul in the dark silence of wordless pain. Those sharp Devil’s nails poking into my heart scouting hard for my soul. Day by day, as the past accumulates, deeper and deeper it digs to strip me off my soul that cries for help from a hideously scarred mind. It’s now a disease that no man of knowledge could cure except me. In these woods, I run to escape the demonous past that chases my body no more rather chases my soul. In a cage of fear I stand. In a cage of fear I breathe the air to my soul that cry tears out of my weak body. Every tear, a bad memory choked out to the heart by the Devil’s hands. I’m miserable in these woods of depression that consume my whole. Nevertheless I run, I run in vain. For I run with my body, not my soul.


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