Who said it was easy to live a life as a wrongfully marked man?
Or to live with a knife in your back, lodged by someone from your own family and people who were supposed to defend you, who did it out of selfish impulses, despite knowing you’re innocent, and that you were at your most vulnerable?
Or being forced to live a lie, to not crack in public, out of terror that a man in grief would be mistaken as a man insane?
Or live with so much lost and ruined, and then mocked by the very people that did it do you, who tricked you, and laid snares and traps in your path?
Or live with knowing that the real criminals were allowed to escape, laughing at how they got away with blood on their hands?
Or living in a daily reminder of betrayal and failure on the part of those entrusted to protect and defend you, bought by money that was supposed to be for a proper solution?
Or knowing that even a simple explanation about it doesn’t do it justice, and only unintentionally scares people?
A storm is coming. Fury has been there, in me, for so long, yet tucked in so deep, the mind weathered from fighting fruitless battles, waging a war completely alone, unarmed, unguided. I wish I could cry every day.
Anyways, enjoy, indulge, or endure.
All images © Mikailus