What did I find when I looked inside?
A Wound, so deep and wide.
Untouched, yet judged.

Stare, laugh or persuade me to have faith,
as I observe this prevalence of hate.
The purpose, once so clear, now a void swathe.

Never wanted this, neither did you.
Refraining from complaining, its true.
Felt remorse for deeds to which I had no obligations
a fatigued inquisitive child, with no comprehension

Realizing now, it was my own imagination.

Fate’s bait, disguised as morning sun.
I start to run.

Now horrors of night,
lay waste in the day.
Problems? come as they may.
It’s a play of intellect,
to which I either succumb, or neglect

What did I find when I looked inside?
I found myself!
Writing my own destiny.