Wading in the murky puddle
You search for it
You thirst for it
The purified water
The clean elixir
The mud slows you down as the anxiety builds
Soon desperation has sunk its fangs
Yearning for the far out of reach clear elixer
You land on your knees
Crying to the heavens
Agonizing over your parched, burning throat
You collect the tears unseen,
Drink your own toxins hoping to sedate the fire
Instead you strengthen the resentful flames
All you see is the puddle you're wading through,
Suffering, dying, searching for Life's ichor
Never once looking up,
Never truly opening your eyes
Never once catching glimpse of the enormous lake up ahead with clean water
We all yearn for something in this world, something that'll make us feel better, something that will quench our suffering even if ever so slightly. Yet we tend to look for it in all the wrong places, going about it in all the wrong ways, turning something that might've been wonderful, into another instrument in our masochistic self torture; furthering our inner suffering. When in fact, what was truly healthy, could be been achieved had we opened our eyes and seen things differently.