My poison

We work so hard. So many people, striving for goals they know nothing about. All of us moving towards our dreams, having no idea what they really entail. Hope seems intrinsically linked with whatever fate we may hold.

Everyday, my future becomes a little darker. Grim possibilities gradually present themselves, but there is nothing that hold me down from reaching the end of this blackened tunnel. I know i will reach the end, but the cost grows every day. Without doubt, by the end of this ordeal, a little part of me will have died. This is a given. If I can control which part of me this is I am yet to find out.

The air grows noxious as i consider the outcomes. Even if I am distanced from my poison, it still takes hold. Admittedly the thought makes me feel ill to my stomach, though it is a necessity. It is not the concept that plagues me, but the application. Bombs fall in the night, and no body even notices the difference. Whats a few men among millions. A subtle loss, invisible to the naked eye. But with the curse of the gift of sight, these tragedies present themselves ten fold. No matter how far you run you can't keep the memories out.

As the tunnel blackens day by day, I see things for what they really are. Masks are meaningless when tomorrow could mean the end. I sit here, with endless thoughts filling my mind, and I think of what is to come. And what i am to become.

A monster sits alone in the night, unseen by the world.