Imperfection

The darkness surrounded me as the cold snow kissed my cheeks and the wind bit at my motionless body. The silence of the world was defining, or was it silence? I could never tell anymore. Noise and silence were too similar to me these days.

The questions of my life, existence, happiness bond my heart with chains too heavy for my chest to hold. I couldn’t breathe as I looked out onto the hazy darkness that I call home. The bitterness is growing like a seed on steroids. It’s growing too fast. I believe that I’ll be lost before the age of twenty five, or am I already lost? Am I the black sheep in a cloud of white? Am I the default in society’s repulsive growth? Or am I the outcome of the dead chemical that society threw out?

Ah, it would seem I left you speechless, your shoes are full of the pain that flows here. You may not understand me nor my thinking or you may think that I am an attention seeking maggot but I do not control you nor what you think.

Happiness is a needle in the darkest forest and I try to reach it, to seek it. I find it sometimes but it would seem that the needle is a magical thing and likes to see you struggle.

Nevertheless, I will keep walking, ignoring society and all of its “perfects”. For I am the imperfection, the sickly dog that society has shot leaving the dead to claim. I smile and laugh but I still ignore and try and move on to find the needle that hides within the darkness.