The Wordsmiths Book 2021

The door

As the water followed down to the lake, carrying with it its baggage of peace. As the soft wind blows, bringing with it the leaves of autumn brown, and the sunlight of the mountains. I look at myself, what have I become, the thoughts of nature so wholesome and bliss were suddenly dismissed, to emerge the true being inside that I knew that it would one day become? would I be forced to hold onto the memories as they fade into gentle laughter? would I be told to enjoy my years with tears falling after? Even now, as I stand by the river bed my thoughts intrude me. They don’t knock on the door and greet me gently rather they find a time and affect me, in every possible way. And as my pain is so visible they still don’t leave. was it really how i had thought. was my life already the mess,

Instead they ridicule me for the way I see things, the way I look, the things I should be,

the things that make me imperfect. And I as I try to fight these thoughts I always seem to fail, the words of hurt and doubt and fear who seem to own me. The thoughts rush in, breaking all my walls.

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