Hi, My name is Micah Park Biffle, I am the author of ' A Man's Traveled Heart,' I am a Veteran who found in understanding of my self through writing. I consider myself an architect of the imagination. Here you will see my creations come to life. My short stories, poems, my thoughts, and a little touch of my life. (I AM SLOWLY MOVING OF BLOGGER< FOR NEW STORIES PLEASE CLICK THE "MEDIUM" LINK TO THE LEFT)
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A Story of Me, Dare I Say
A Story of Me, Dare I Say
I buried my heart years before I
knew what life meant, before I ever took a moment to explore the kingdom that
is within me.
Before the coming of age, I fell
to the preaches of the popular and the cool. I listened to unsightly words become
labels of me, such as,“stupid” on needless occasions, as students looked on and
the teacher pointed. I fell prey to the voices that cluttered my existence of
who I was, and what I was meant for.
As time passed I struggled with
the savoring of poison, numbing my thoughts and the voices that crept. Feeding the urge to make it all go away with the joys of pills and the rare
occasion of coke drowned with whiskey and false laughter that came with it.
Only to end each night with quivering misery and spiteful hate toward myself.
With misery building her home
inside me, I left myself locked behind walls with tears sunken in a well, never
to be released. Skirting the thoughts that would leave not only my heart buried
but my flesh.I had demons clawing at the walls
of my mind, coming to fruition in my dreams, leaving me restless like the
ticking of a clock. Always going never stopping. Anxiety swept the air like
foul stench of rot. I found myself insatiably tasting the sour flavors of pity.
Waiting for a hand to pull me from this hell I so maliciously adored.
I thought there was nothing to
save me, that this is all I had. Yet, there was a something in me, a voice, a
voice I believe that had always been there, call it God, the universe, call it
what you may. But it found its way through the empty echoes of my shadows.
could hear it, constant, like a soft breeze to my ear, whispering for me to
create, to spill ink upon paper, to venture into myself. And when all felt that
all would collapse on me as I emptied a bottle down the dry walls of my throat,
tearful eyes clouded my sight and I found myself writing an entire book. It was
a release from all the pain and sorrow I had held inside for far too long.
Keeping it locked away like the denial of dreadful disease. I had finally found
what had always been yearning in me.
Writing broke down the walls I had built so
high and gave me a view of myself so beautiful, my heart wept along with my
soul.I now have the ability to dig up
my heart and place it in its proper home.
So now I say to you, if your
heart is buried, find that tool, that will help you dig it up. For something in
you is yearning to come to creation of life.
I believe their is a talent in all of us, have you found yours?
To those that are depressed, I bring you these words and hope they fill the belly of your soul and nourish your heart,
Today, may be tougher than the former or maybe not. Maybe, today is like any other day, you struggling to remove yourself from your bed is but a wishful feat and nothing more. As you are coiled in the monotony of sadness that seeps from you like foul breath; from a desperate evening of melancholy. Maybe, the mere action to place a smile upon your face may feel like lifting the world from your chest.
I know these feelings well, I know them as well as I know the color of my eyes. I know when even a sunrise is no more joyful than a slaved day at work. When the world is pressing you into the unimaginable sinking of despair.
Where the air is thin but anxious thoughts a rabid. Where colors fade and all you see is grey and the whispers of death sound so sweet. Maybe you have fallen much further than I, where the act of infliction's don't jus…
A Beast Among the Flames
Lighting strikes the open plains setting the dry grass ablaze. Fires start to rise from the hill tops in the distance like signals. I can feel the heat from the flames that blaze only yards from me. The sweet scent of wet grass resonates against the smell of burning earth.
Smoke melds with the dark clouds above, forming a fondness for each other. I can feel my chest rising with heavy breaths as I prepare my mind. This is either the end or a start to another day. Kneeling on one knee I press myself up and stand.
I look around me as the world before me looks as if hell is bursting from earth. In the chaos I find serenity, for I am built for this, trained for this.
I finished my indulgence of my surroundings and pull my sword from the ground.
I raise it with my right hand pulling it near my chest. The point of my blade stands five inches above my head. I close my eyes and start to rhythmically pound the armor of my chest with my other hand.
"Let your umbrella unfold, dance beneath the rain when others won't shelter you with the echoes of love my dear." Her mother said as she kissed her upon the forehead.
Sophia looking up at her mother smiles as she holds her pink umbrella above her head. Her mother, raising up from the kiss takes Sophia by the hand and they begin to walk. Sophia, only five and her father off on a business trip, her mother becomes lonely.
And so they walk, they walk through evenings, mornings, dusk's and dawns. Watching the graceful colors of sunsets and sunrises. Sophia's mother teach's her to admire the colors before them. Not just the wonderful vibrant colors, but also the dull. The gloomy streaks of darkness.
For everything has a purpose in this world. From the thunder storms to clear skies. Sophia, holding her mother's hands as they walk through the rain looks and up and asks, "Mother, why do you cry? Do the colors of this clouded night …