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Aireansa

The Writer
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Very possible at this point. 🙃
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Sometimes I am not sure who I hate more. Myself or my mind.
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In a moment's notice where the ever turning sounds.
Stole our every look.
Where these piece of our hearts didn't lay so twisted.
Twisted in the heap, of ruins.
Memories are scattering to the surface.
Understanding something along this part and once more,
Shedding away a little more of our sanity as it comes
To pass by.


There will never be enough words to fill this space. There will never be enough memories to bring this back to it's place.
Under rule, under the morning, under the darkness, under the light.
Changing in a spark of fire.
Ripping from the cords of the heart.
The urge to run, the endless nightmare sparing in for one more dance.
Just a storm.
Hitting on it's rugged verge of the course,
That only it knows.
Broken battered souls gear up once more.

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There are these moments where the calm holds a balance.
And underlining thought of knowing we can still live.
Pieces of the wounds are in a mending process.
Often stuck in a rotations of tears and over bearing drives of these emotions.
Under the tow of trying to get a grasp, of trying to understand where,
Everything didn't feel so shaken.
Each step has a mark, each breath has a potential draw.
In a quick move to shelter out the pain.
Everything begins to turn side ways.
Under the breach of the levy holding the weight back.
We've managed to slip once again.
The circumstances seem all but lost.
At night the silence fills through the rooms.
Walking slowly around the memories reawaken in our minds.
Spinning off to the left, crashing into the wall as the turn hits home.
Under the crutch of some fallen pride, many forget that these feelings others hold.
Backsliding down some hole, into the pit of darkness.
Often or not, everything breaks into the pieces we have been so desperately
trying to hold together.
In a cycle of circles, everything begins to rush.
Here and there, these pleas are turning into screams.
The comfort is out at arms reach.
Some underlining knowledge that this was going to happen.
The road hits a bump under the fold.
The flashing lights are spiraling about as everything slows.
This is the story of how I lost myself.
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It's this passing moment that begins to feel forgotten. Where the uncertainty of where we've trying to pull ourselves back out, just simply engulfs us. On this broken road, where the clouds are just circling in. Storms threatening on their reproach. The soul has been struggling for some release, for this tension to lesson. Days pass by in a  blur of madness. Holding back the tears and fighting off the emotions as if you've been to afraid to feel. Stumbling constantly, until someone pushes through this wall you've created. Down and down we sink. No rhyme or reason to this, just a passing way of life that is crippling with all of it's effects.
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I think Im back. by Aireansa, journal

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