A Cure for My Demoralizing Actions

I decided to write something now.

It has been a little while.
I have been stuck in a dry spell.

Words that didn't work would appear.
They would just show up.
I could never figure out how.
A cup filled with half parts water and the other half beer.

Tonight is my fight to write something right.

I am working my hardest, in spite of my past failures.
This has became my new test.
My goal is in site due to my new angels and saviors.
They have listened to my prayers.
This time I do dare to finish and then share.

An alienation from a powerful situation.
Driven to exceed my every expectation.
Thoughts striven by ambition and intuition
Words that come from a powerful place that's always kept close and held deep within.

Here it goes...

A compilation of situations leading to moral degradation:

An infatuation to stations held by those with an inclination to power and self motivation.
Following the temptations that decide health is in need of its own emancipation.
Putting ones self in places where self preservation is shadowed by a high that would calm the maddest of nations. Burning the bridges of cooperation with the ones who mattered; there's no more adoration.

Finally my thoughts became free, out of gestation. Like a gun, the triggers been pulled with no hesitation. Saying things that can only come from me and those with a similar imagination.
I cared only for a proliferation of experiences and contemplations. I disregarded who I spoke in front of and was unperturbed by the destinations of my poetical castrations.

This continued for a while.
Not knowing when to stop, losing track of time and entering doors. Forgetting to knock.
When my breath was lost I'd continue going, saying, “Just another mile”
My denials, failures and fears were safely kept hidden away from me by me.
Forgetting the code, I couldn't break through my lock.
Then I thought if I just stopped and listened to the telemetry coming from an unknown black hole, possibly my soul, I might gain my metaphorical locks mastery.
I was right.
The Code: 1, 2, 3

I was set free. I remembered my past. It came at me all at once, in a speeding burst. It was way too fast.

Before I thought that I fought the good fight. For a while I thought that my goal was in sight. Then one day like an explosion at night; I clearly saw that I was wrong.
It wasn't my goal. It was just something that I stole. Ideas of greatness, likeability and happiness taken from society and turned to my own forms of ideologies.
I just wanted to be me, an individual standing in the rain, waiting for the sun, f**k poetic justice, stress and the rest of the mess that held like glue while destroying my symmetry.

Once I chose to finally find and get to know myself, the darkness became bright. My world became peace. My words, my might. I stopped stressing the small stuff and finally with a little patience everything that I am was set right.