Master of Will

Defeat swells in my throat like tears in the eyes of weaklings
But I don't want to be like them...
Isolation and alienation weigh down on my chest, snapping my collarbone like a dry twig
... I don't belong here
Photo by Gemma /Breathing Jigoku
You don't belong anywhere
Nature belongs to no one
The dirt of the earth coats tired, weathered soles 
Toes dig into the grass
Covered by clouds, the moon tries its damnedest to shine through
If only I could be like the moon
You can if you choose to be
Though the clouds step in front of it to dim its shine, it still radiates light
Resilient as iron, nothing can take away the moon's luminosity
You can if you choose to be
You are the master of your own reality



By Randiah Camille Green

-Part of an ongoing series about having an existential crisis and resulting existentialism.

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