The tragedy of the broken spirit. Witnesses the birth of a child, but only sees the pain in rain-soaked tears in a mother’s eyes. So acquainted with self-despair, even your miracles are setbacks instead of breakthroughs. Labeling the dissenting voices traitors to the cause. Only to realize your own deeply-rooted flaws. When will it end you proclaim in true desperation? So unaware, it never really began, except in your now soured-membrane. Break free from your imaginary cage. Release all the stolen rage. It’s well-passed time to turn the page.

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The  “Day 314: A Scripted Memory” (text) by EYHCS published under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. 

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