It calls me.
For years, I’ve made multiple failed attempts at ignoring it’s call. I’ve followed path after path away only to, one day, end up drawn back to darkness.
It’s not that I like the intensity of the suffering or the loud silence of the isolation. No.
I take no pleasure in moments where it like a jealous lover, whispers my name. It caresses my scars and calls me by name.
It, after giving me the strength to make my escape, beckons me to return. Begs me to return.
This darkness begs to be thrust into the light. It’s tired of the shadows and corners in which we hid it so…. I oblige it.
I present darkness in hope that it’s shadows will bring light. In hope that the hearts of it’s observed are pricked….. that they are compelled to extraordinary empathy.
I present darkness so that formal and well-educated minds can see that which our program prohibits.
I present darkness and I pray that I’m not remembered only for my light.