Never Ending Fantasies

What do you do when you figure out you missed it?
How do you pick up the pieces when you realize it’s never going to be the same it could have been?

Trust is meaningless. Hope is frail. Illusions of a dream never meant to come true.

Prince Charming is a joke. Love is elusive, meant for tales we weave beyond our woes.

Dreamers exist to brighten the world with fallacies. We lose ourselves in the romance of fantasy.

Dreams and wishes our hearts make put us fast to sleep, slumbering in clouds to escape reality.

Reading ourselves stories to brighten the night, where every happy ending is true. For who reads to remind themself life is frail?

And now broken love remains. A light to shine out to the others, perhaps someone might be cheered from this endless gloom.

Take heart, hope at least burns for someone. It doesn’t mean reality gets better. But at least you know someone cares. I can care enough for you when you lose sight of yourself.

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What Love is Abuse?

Which is better?

To be berated, blamed constantly for choices not your own?

To be neglected, questioning your worth?

Which is easier to overcome?

The mental anguish that riddles you with anxiety?

A twisted power play that rattles the cage you can’t escape from?

How delicate the balance that establishes our worth.

Tormented, forced to be reliant.  Dangling on broken strings!

Insufficient, forced to drown even when you were sitting still.

Who can allow such evils to exist in their brains, destroying the ones they love piece by piece?

Or is it love?  What IS love?

Anger at insufficiency, frustration at lack of progress, neither of these are love.

Berating and blame, neither of these are love.

Tearing down the worth of another, to mend your own inefficiencies, neither of these are love.

Abuses the world does not recognize as dangerous, these things kill even the strongest of people.  Their hands have not hit you, but their words will make your soul bleed 

Of the Oppressed

So this is hell, where I should die

A grave I dug for myself

To lie down and slowly fade

All that I am to shift and suffocate

Dirt heaped in abusive piles snuffing out my life

The airs toxic, my lungs ache from holding my breath

I deserve it.  I am the coward who ran away

Running to safety, or running to death?

Who of us can tell.

I will die here, gasping for air and sweet release 

Alas none shall I find, for true freedom is not my Fate.