Life and Death

I think about my Life and my Death most days. Maybe it was because I was viciously toyed with and felt Death's cold breath when I was tortured while very young.

That which happens to you at your youngest seems to pack the most powerful of punches. Carrying those heavy wounds each day weighs heavily upon the mind.

My life was pure torment that never seemed to have an ending. Each day, still trapped within my parent's, my abusers home, I died a little. I had no dreams, no wants or wishes for I knew full well the suffering would not end the next day, the next week, the next month or even the next year.

Long-suffering was I. 

Pray for Death each day, I did.

Now, free of my persecutors, I spend my days sitting alone. Unharmed. It is a new experience. 

I am at peace alone in the dark. 

I like it here.