The worst part of me
Is with the best part of me
And if I silence one,
I’d lose both.

Should I lose one–
The words,
The rhythm of thoughts,
The flowing stream with the life of its own,
The life behind each stroke of the hand–
For a little more sanity,
For a little more silence,
For a little more peace.

Or should I choose the other–
The sleepless nights,
The overthinking,
The fears
The imagined shadows haunting the corners of my mind–
For a little more strength,
For a little more grace,
For a little more peace,

Oh I’d cry sometimes.
At night.
When everything is silent
Except for my mind.
When everything’s asleep
But the thoughts wanting to be found.
I’d cry of the gift
Of the curse
And of both.
I’d cry of the choice
And needing to make one.
I’d cry of the fact I cannot.
I’d cry of the fact that I have chosen the same thing
Over and over again,
Each and everytime.
I’d cry of the unknown
If this is right or wrong.
I’d cry of the fear
That this is what I hold dear.

But I have chosen.
And this is evidence of it.
And though silence is a must
Every now and then,
This is my choice.
Should there be a time
That I forget these thoughts of mine,
I hope to read this again,
My solace from pain.


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