Dark

They say it'll get better.

Did it?

No.

Was it true?

Partly.

You see, it doesn't go away completely. It still lingers deep in my head, haunting me before I go to bed.

It taints my thoughts; and I can't controll it sometimes. So no, that never changes.

You just become stronger. Adapt. Because there is something deep inside of you to grasp onto. To pull so hard your knuckles begin to bleed.

The darkness is infinite; and never goes. We all just live in shades of grey.

Yet somehow in a sick and twisted way the black turned me into yellow.

Made me feel.

Stronger.

And if someone were to ask if I could avoid such a dark time I would slap them and scream no.

Because in truth I was no one before.

And now I'm everyone.

Because I found my voice in a black pen.

And my black ink remains black, but it is the brightest shade of yellow I've ever seen.

Find your rope. Your outlet. Find your yellow; it's waiting for you.