
Pull the trigger,
Trauma whispers,
A voice that shatters
And echoes loud in the hollow of my mind.
Bang—he hammers hard,
Relentless in his reign,
A tyrant born of pain.
______
But wait—why? I ask
“It’s justice,” he replies,
The weight of sorrow pulls me low.
His voice murmurs in my fractured soul.
Revenge, he says,
Is sweeter than forgiveness.
______
The angels scream within,
A symphony of contradiction.
Heal, they plead,
Let pain become a bridge, not a blade.
But their chorus shifts—
“Kill,” they cry,
Let your agony lash out,
Turn grief into fire,
Burn the world for what it took.
_______
I stand at a crossroads,
A fool, or so it seems,
In a world so harsh, so cruel.
Is healing a weakness?
Is fury my only strength?
I ask the sky,
But the stars remain silent.
______
To heal, to harm,
To rise, to fall—
What am I but the battle within?
My trauma fights for dominance,
Yet somewhere deep, a whisper calls:
“You are more than your scars.”
______
So I stand, trembling,
The trigger cold beneath my hand.
Not yet.
Not today.
I’ll rewrite this story,
Carve a path not of vengeance,
But of redemption,
Where the weight of pain
Becomes the wings of flight.
_______
For the angels in my head scream still,
But now the cries align.
“To heal. To rise.”
“To love again in time.”
About the Creator
Marvelous Michael
I’m so glad you are here!
“Heaven and earth will pass away, but My words will by no means pass away.”
Matthew 24:35 NKJV

Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.