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Writer's pictureSam John

Paradise.


I keep myself from it.

I tear it off my skin... it doesn't feel right.

It doesn't fit right. I never give it a chance to adjust.


I want to let it in.

I want to fall into it's arms.

I am growing and evolving in my understanding of it and my desire for it.


I've lost so much internalizing the shame and guilt... and not letting myself be more than it.

The past is the past... yet dwelling in it seems so intoxicating.


An addiction. I crawl towards this darkness.

With paradise just a stone's throw away.

I open my eyes frustrated and confused.


Knowing that I can make that choice.

Once and for all.

And move closer towards paradise.


4 Years. 3 Months. 1 Day.

My sentence ends today.


Yours faithfully,

A Prisoner of his Own Mind.


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