Echoes Before the Spark

So here’s the thing—

I’m not really a fan of life.

Haven’t been for quite some time.

Anger, rage, and hate consumed me at an early age.

And as I grew, they twisted shape—

confusion, stress, anxiety.

These emotions plague me daily,

routine of torment normal as if brushing teeth.

Though I avoid the mirror—

the shame it brings.

The hardest truth?

The oppressor is me.

Dreams avoided from fear of failure—

same with goals, desires, and hopes.

Regret weighs heavy with what life could’ve been,

had I known judgment and praise reflected each other,

and neither existed without the other.

See, even light must fight free

from the darkest cover.

So let these lines be a spark—

that beckons peace into my life.

To find serenity in surrendering self

under the scrutiny of the public’s eye.

Bonded by words, and the power they hold.

Written truths of thine soul—

behold this little light of mine

what resides in the mirror

is an image of gold.