The Obscurity of Trees


Minus pride,

I gaze upward.

Toward the elusive static that are the fingers of torment.

Arrogant are the attempts to see the obscurities for what…they are.

Nothing but mere intensely formidable, live-in scars.

And, I?

I am nothing but the wick to the flame…burning ever so bright.

Eternally adjusting the delicate balance.

That is my willingness to fight.

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The ache needs me for a lifetime.  The will to fight?  It only needs me for today!
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