The Quest
Composed for the prompt for Week Four of Micro Fiction March by Mina Howell
It wasn't chaos, But, not coming into my own, for too longβ¦ Mere survival, transitioning to feeling alive. The pressure to congeal into Digestible, accepted forms, Ignoring my instincts, to follow norms. Defying nature by hushing the turmoil With every disgruntled nod, unfelt smile, conflicting 'yes'es, And instructions executed with precision, Despite feeling naught, harrowed and empty inside. I don't allow myself now, To leave, unescorted, without this newfound voice. I'm mindful of taking My time and self-preservation, along with me, Peace of mind follows. Unfortunately, Obedience wasn't seasonal in me. The all-pervasive urge keeps blocking me. It seems the world is ending, has been for the past few decades, Humans spiral into the absurd At great speed. Enticed by the decadence of warped distribution of opportunities and capital, true meaning of life and earth, mistaken by the pockets that carry Nothing of worth. How sad, for this to happen At the precipice of my rebirth, When the possibilities I can Now, envisage on my lifeβs horizon, would be immaterial to the larger scale of annihilation of life and desires. How inconvenient, That I have to tread Yet another journey, With no end visible. Strife, my companion, Dread inevitable.

Thank you for reading :)
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You art & words are such a gift. I can feel this one deeply. π
it really is the great tragedy of our lives that we finally find ourselves just as the world is ending.
you've captured this beautifully, and held absolutely nothing back.
I love it π