I’ve finally untethered that crippling cord.

That sapper of storm.

That suffocator of flame.

I’ve finally set the vein to bleed. In due time, it will wither away. And you know what that means, don’t you, my darling.

My truth is free

The animal

The spitter of truth

The beast who speaks how he feels.

When a man is done with facades and fashions, there is no longer song. This tongue reveals truths. The ugly truths. The untruths. The sweet words we wish to hear at the question of our worth.

Why must a man dance with these novelties. These lies. These hopes we provoke at the hope of pleased cheeks. Does their joy dictate our means of success?

Of course not.

And yet, we’re told to keep them pleased.

Does it matter now?

I am free. My spirit is free to roar as loud as it desires.

It’s time to feel this heart in its true form.

And when we speak of fire, fire does in fact burn whatever is in its wake.

I am also at the mercy of the fire.

But flames were not meant to burn low.

So even if it hurts, my fire will bring warmth. And even if it burns, my fire will bring light.

At least I will know what the scars will be for.

I will not let myself be smothered any longer.

The time had come to put that to an end.

All so that, the truth can begin.