A DEPAR SOUL

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The configuration of my skin is constructed of bricks and jelly.  My mind is withheld in a chamber. A chamber that is discreetly hidden in shadows of my conscience that constrict the muscles of my face that enable me to emote. This emotional oppression, black and vile, derived from a past so unfathomable and relentless. It’s intriguing how in a solitary moment a child’s life can be stripped of its innocence and killed of its joy. One moment, a child could be squandering its life aimlessly with such profound adulation of its toys and in another instant the child is on the floor of his closet begging for an explanation from God. I remember being on the floor of my closet. I spent night after night pounding on the walls and clutching the carpet; trying to release the demons that possessed my innocence. I would try to conjure up reasons as to why such a thing would and could happen to me. Why did my white flower rot? I remember being slung off my bed, pinned against my carpet, and having my body insulted against my will. I tried yelling but my screams did not resonate. My heart thumped like a Taiko drum and my peripheral vision darkened as my misfortune progressed. All I could see was a silhouette thrusting it’s hips. He clutched my throat to try to limit my already static motor skills. I hit, I scratched, and I begged but it wasn’t enough. Each time I would try to escape, he would hunt me down. I was merely a Bambi in the hunting grounds of innosence. For many nights that followed, I began to develop such an unhealthy hatred towards the human race. I went weeks without interacting with people. Not a syllable nor emotion was displayed from me in the presence of another person. Day by day I was constructing a brick wall that surrounded my heart and my trust. However, my brick wall was easy to break�" as it was being mended by jelly. At times my emotional stability would just disassemble and I would scream in pain in the confinement of my closet. Yet, at other times I would have the strength of an ox. 

This belligerently repulsive time put me in an emotional cocoon that seemed to be dormant for many of the following years. I would confide within the breast of my closet, as it was the only place I felt relief. Although I was cocooned for many years, I was going through my metamorphosis. A few years ago, I spread my wings and broke free. I grasped the concept that I was giving satisfaction of defeat which agitated me even more. I then set a precedent to prohibit anyone from gaining the satisfaction of defeating me. I became powerful with my thinking and determined to be strong mentally. I inherited a poker face so unreadable and unchangeable, people wouldn’t even try to break me down. I also claimed that I would fight for those who have been oppressed by anyone no matter the altitude of the situation. I made it my destiny to hunt blood thirty demons that corrupted the souls of humans.

The wolf cries to the moon for some unknown reason. Does it evoke hope? Does it bring fear? Despite its reasoning, the moon cannot go without being sought…  just like you. It is merely a beacon for every eye. Let me be your beacon. Be afraid of what I went through. Do not. Let not. Be grateful for what I went through. Learn from. Grow from. Now, I challenge you to be a beacon. Use your tongue as a powerful weapon to slay the demons that corrupt mankind. Be the up-stander I longed for. Never by-stand.  I made it my destiny to have mental strength constructed of brick and a tender heart made of jelly for those weaker than I. Make it your destiny too and be the beacon.