Long winters spent on Sunday mornings praying at the alter, praying for the fear of heart to subside, I dig deep into the literature written on my hands, and all it says, “fear not the others.” I was branded young during the age of inconsistency, left alone with a desert blanket to keep me from the cold, I decided then that I was going to be an outsider, to walk a million miles of hard road, but we’re all tested, in our own ways, are we worth the skin we inhabit? Some questions will be left unanswered, those that prove themselves will be given armor to lead legions against the oncoming wave of rising tides.
This feeling stays with you, the feeling of emptiness. You will never get rid of it until you go out and search for the means of filling the hole. And all I choose to ask is, does fear still drive you? The wrong answer can put you a million miles away.
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