They Swim Between the Beats of Our Hearts.
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They Swim Between the Beats of Our Hearts.
Spilling all reasoning from it like spit from a Novocaine mouth. They shriek in hopes to bring you fear like a child lost in the moonlight. They fester like illness and scratching them only spreads them like a virus. And with no avail, no single soul has found a cure. For they breech all walls with little persistence.
They swim between the beats of our hearts and dwell in our veins. Waiting with absolute patience.
But what are they, you may ask?
They are but us, our reflection, our many faces we place upon our soul. Each face meaning something else, each given strength with each wear. And with little effort to become the dominant.
They are but our thoughts, our choices, and our values. They cater to our weakness and build within our misery, our suffering, and our tragedy. Looking for that single link to cut in the chain, living us in a state of depraved depression.
Lulling our dreams to sleep and murdering our faith in our love for ourselves.
But bring not fear to the reading of this. For, if they are but us, then we are in control. We are but the one whom may condemn them, or bring them wealth.
But in the damning of their retched existence, one must be potent in the belief of self. Commanding in the creation of thought. And willing to embrace the need for constant change.
Though there be no cure, there is the ability to live beside them with peace. And find a life flowing with the joys of happiness.
But one must be constant in the potency of self and the commanding of thought. And comfortable in the embracing of change. All, which come with practice and earning in patience.
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