Myths we live by

Trust that dies once cannot be revived. And why should one try? It was after all, a self-created myth. The mask was bound to fall, because I placed it there. The story was bound to end, as I wove it around a non-existent nucleus.

I loathe myself, as

once again, I fail to fly

wings I never had

I switch on an electric lamp and imagine dawn. I create darkness in the mind, and think that life has ended. I build my routines around it, and wonder why nobody responds. Who is out of synch?

the sun and moon laugh

at stories we tell ourselves

choose to live by it

JSW Prompt 160418