i don’t need to make it better.
don’t need to believe it will get better,
or that everything will be alright,
or that there was some purpose to it,
that will be revealed later,
once i have healed.
i don’t need to hope,
that once these raw wounds,
have scabbed over,
and the scars have toughened,
my resulting strength,
will in any way make the trauma,
worth enduring.
i can look into the eyes of the monster,
stare past its slimey teeth,
into its hollow throat,
into its hunger,
and understand the pointlessness,
the mindlessness,
the emptiness,
and be okay.
it doesn’t need a point.
it needs no purpose.
it just is,
as i am.
exactly where it needs to be,
and exactly where i need to be.
in reality,
it is me,
and i choose not to be monstrosity.
it has no purpose.
i give myself purpose.
so i will win,
even if in the end,
it consumes me.
i will burn it from within.
