The demons of the soul scream at their crescendo during some nights, days, and even afternoon. They are the fallacy, they are the truth; uncertain, they are. But, it’s certain that they are. They are the venom, they are the nectar. They move me forward and take me backwards. There lies an obeisance between the prodding intensities of them.

They play a vendetta against me and the destitute, oppressed, and the underprivileged are the antidote to end this vendetta temporarily till eternity.

My negative or positive feedbacks about myself aren’t the one that defines me, but rather my actions and the inevitable failure which comes along with it. I try to fit in with every harsh setback, seeking refuge in the struggle and sweetness of dreams which comes along with it. My balls and my mind stay empty while I hit my hay sack.

I suppose we are to do this for the whole of our life. The struggle remains to put your ego down and commence the game facade and manipulation.

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