Everything is intoxicating

I always find it hard to choose

To stay still on this rough brick wall

Where the family dog accidentally stained

While evacuating its bowel

Or to compete with the rest

On that rotten apple

I stepped into the real world soon enough

The first step got me spiralling down a dark abyss

Wet and dismal

Vicious hands grabbing at me

Strong, rancid stench punctured my nostrils

Bullets and arrows were stained with blood

Blood with hints of corrupt innocence.

Each breath I take, I have a choice

To open a new door or close an old one

To write a new story or reread the same book

To drown in sorrow or swim against the tides.

Every breath I take is like the fresh bloom of a flower

Or germination of a new plant

As long as I am breathing in fresh air

I am allowing myself a chance

To repaint my scars

To fill up my wounds

As long as there is another breath to take.