Ebb

I abated. My passion. My strength. My fortitude. In shambles. Aghast at myself for my regression. My infantile weakness. My innerlight snuffing out like a mother smothering her idiot infant. The shame. The regret. The lie.

But I trudge on. Because there is nothing left to do. I don't look back. But I know the ghosts follow me. The wights of misdirection. Of the life I lost. Of the life that was stolen from me. Like a lamb led to slaughter.

I need to rekindle my joy. My happiness. I need to find solace.
Maybe after I finish this cigarette.