I clothed myself in apathy safe and removed from the world, in it but not of it.

You clove my armor and shattered my spear leaving me at the mercy of the cold tempestuous emotional winds tearing at my flaws and screaming down my fissures. Its left me bereft and daunted with few paths ahead of me I can gather up my shield and spear mend the cracks patch the holes and lie to myself knowing full well once broken something can never be the same. Or I can attempt to brave the tempest risking yet more of my very self image hoping beyond hope that the wind will smooth and shape me better than I was forming new armaments and arms to fight the banality of daily life.

The risk is there that I will simply be worn thin and hollow a thought that terrifies me more than anything I’ve ever imagined, yet with risk and hardship there lies a hope of salvation...…or damnation.