#selfdiscipline
Have you ever noticed the shifting of words?
Greetings, what say you from yonder place?
Our words seem tainted, decaying, toxic to me.
Curiously, they still gleam and resonate on the surface,
Yet do you fathom their quandary?
"They lack all significance, meaning naught.
Witness it for yourself.
From a scientific stance,
Humans fashioned words to expand the realm of knowledge,
Now known as information, a shared bounty.
But behold the transformation...
As darkness fell, and men slumbered beneath shared stars,
War erupted, coercing us to buy dubious wares,
In exchange for a false promise of peace, Hughes deemed a friend,
To escape condemnation, death or prison, for dissenting views,
Once taboo in bygone days.
Generations passed, civilizations rose and crumbled,
Yet one truth remains amidst this eternal dance,
Forgotten is the words' power to inspire fear,
Instead, they become mute pages, hushing silence.
Do you remember consuming those ceaseless warnings?
How could I forget the myriad of prohibitions?
Reiterated by parents, society, teachers, priests,
Till their words turned meaningless babble,
Thankfully coated in apologies, "I'll never do it again,"
Though never intending to in the first place,
Yet they sowed seeds of sinister thoughts within my shadows.
We all proclaimed, "In five minutes," or "Tomorrow I'll start," or
"This time, I'll never be late for..."
Mere piles of reeking ******* they truly are.
How did we reach a juncture where words lost their essence?
Reducing the world to a brothel, a circus, bereft of meaning.
Alas, the mightiest declarations endure the test of time.
Honesty, Justice, and the Truth.
"That all may honor the Son as they do the Father.
He who disrespects the Son, disrespects the Father who sent him."
Ironically, such words have unsettled men for centuries,
Though once uttered with genuine intent.
And who rendered them void?
Politicians, lawyers, professionals, advertisers,
All who employ words as tools, and we with our posts and likes,
Craving more likes,
Fueling the fire with greater fervor,
More love, more laughter, more, more, more,
On the obnoxious host, like...
Do you grasp the meaning of "fast"?
Similar to "pray and fast,"
Fast!
To seal, confine, shut away, that is its core.
To observe weeks of silence, refraining from speech.
Sadly, our oral sphincter shall not comply,
Yet closure is within reach.
Do you truly seek to infuse your life with new purpose?
Fresh words?
Then embrace silence for seven, or better yet, twenty-one days,
Abstaining from discourse entirely,
Not even a whisper, eschewing
Social media, tranquil and attuned to self,
Embracing the vast expanse of emotions when the month remains unsoiled.
Only then shall wonders befall... and
Unlock the tapestry of thoughts and mysteries within your mind.
Jan 22, 2023
Jan 22, 2023 at 10:58 PM UTC
Not every victory is loud.
Some wins
Happen in silence.
Waking up when you don’t feel like it.
Trying again after you failed.
Staying kind when life isn’t.
That’s strength.
You don’t need the world
To validate your progress.
The fact that you’re still here
Still fighting
Still believing
Is proof enough.
Growth doesn’t always look glamorous.
Sometimes it looks like
Crying in private
And coming back stronger in public.
Sometimes it looks like
Deleting old habits.
Outgrowing old mindsets.
Walking away from what once felt comfortable.
That’s not weakness.
That’s evolution.
You are not the same person
You were a year ago.
And that’s something to be proud of.
Even if nobody claps.
Even if nobody notices.
Even if nobody understands.
Keep building.
Because one day
The quiet work
Will make loud results.
And when they ask how you did it
You’ll smile.
Because you remember
The nights nobody saw.
— Itz_All_True ✍🏽🔥
Mar 4
Mar 4, 2026 at 4:10 PM UTC
Replicating thoughts—reptile skins, changing
shadows, down to earth; repping tiles—
:revolving doors, resolving morals through
cutthroat self-worth; like ice-cold Sprite slicing
my throat— lime seeds bite, then lemon trees
from words; what I spit, I plant— pain grows
proof, even when it hurts.
A six-pack that hurts from trading sixpacks,
late nights; uncontrollable forces still, I force
control within— a brown stain on white forces,
forces me to face what shows; at least a piece
of white remains, at least a piece of growth
still grows, even when it feels slow.
Mar 26
Mar 26, 2026 at 4:45 PM UTC