Distaste
How do we become what we need to be?
Move within me,
bend and breathe.
Hear me,
though I am silent.
See me,
though I am not present.
Chosen,
fate does not discuss or decipher as you do.
Pathways to heaven,
the best intentions led to places unspoken.
Slivers of doubt crept through your everlasting heart.
Fearful of the beats yet to come;
They crept still.
Manifested,
your thoughts grew limbs and spoke of their leaves.
Spoken so often of their past seasons of being.
Motivated,
"I will reach beyond that which I have been,
I am better than my latest form,
I will be better yet still."
They heard you and fear you,
as you fear yourself.
Your path remains led by uncertainty,
in darkness.
Fail as you have before,
shown weakness.
Open lips to bleed out,
wounds unhealed.
Vexed and viciously unkempt,
your heart is as they see it;
How you see it.
Taunt them with your position of victim,
and they will gladly meet you half way.
The world will play as you play.
Pick your role,
your confident confusion displayed is enough to call it.
Give me your hand and I will guide you;
Prove it.
Pick a direction.
There is no savior left,
no protection.