those rickety heaps

The left one is winning the right one is not and he now knew less than he might have forgot. His hands they were shaking his heart it was cold and bitter from long years of stories he'd told himself and to others about his low worth about such abuse as he'd suffered from birth. He knew not a way out not where he'd soon be or whether he should let his closest friends see the anguish and suffering buried below that had held him back and made his progress slow. Then one day he woke up and had had enough and finally turned 'round to face his past stuff and finally gave up his grasp on his grief those rickety heaps of it those well-stacked sheafs. It wouldn't be easy to stare it all down but he knew if he dug in and stood his ground he'd step from the shadows of what had once been and allow the healing to start and begin.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥