promises

When it feels so dark on the inside, and the walls always seem to outrun you, I grasp to what little belief I have left in myself, and I go from point to point trying to remain unharmed, and to not harm others. I know the consequences of my actions, and the knowledge that I will have to live with this for the rest of my life. Simple erasers cannot be used to erase these memories. They stain you and cling on to you like mud on a fresh pair of linens. The regret I wake up with seems to outweigh the guilt, and since I am already ridden up to the brim with guilt, everything seems so bleak and thirsty. And I am hungry for change.

What measure of desperation would one go to in order to fulfill one's promises?

I will not do it again...

But looking back, I cannot live with my hands bound and my feet tied up against my head with no air to breathe and little space to move.

I need to know it's all worth it in the end. That life, like death, could be so near it brushes through my feet, and I will be awakened to see it happen.

Through black sky and blue, I pray through and through.