A Man Who Walks

How many steps have I walked away from that?

That thing which nearly consumed me?

It was such a journey,

such a battle,

such a conflict. 

Now that I think of it,

I've never looked back.

Never looked back at the Hell.

But who's to blame?

Was it me, for letting it go?

Did it arrive on its own, and I couldn't stop it?

Or was it the other party's fault, the one I swore not to mention?

I hold my rifle as I always have; on my back.

The very thing I used to keep it at bay.

I should've just kept fighting the urge to say.

But, now that I think of it,

I never looked back.

My feet never grew sore,

my legs carried me forward,

and my eyes had a straight gaze.

It is because I wanted to?

Was I so strong to escape?

Or is it because my damn body won't let me take control?

Either way, it's proven to be better at survival.

But, now that I think of it,

I never looked back.

So I did.

I looked back, and saw the horizon shining.

Not of sun, but of fire.

The fire that burned whatever I had left of that time.

Of that cage.

And it was a good time.

A good cage.

But it is not necessary.

I looked back.

I smiled. Laughed once.

Said, "How liberating."

Then walked again, down a road.

I don't know where.

But it is a road;

perfect for me.

Reviews

[xXxCynicalWarsxXx]

This was well done, a master piece of exhaultation! I loved it very much, and felt the emotion of never giving up. Nicely done!