From The Broken Road

I write this because I can not speak it, I am heading down a road in which I already see the ending. I have been here before I see the the brink coming, yet I am unable to steer clear. I was here once before but my cargo was much less precious, the ending still the same but the end much more abrupt. I tried to be better this time I tried to learn from my mistakes, but in the end all I achieved was making the fight far more hurtful. The wounds much more pronounced, deeper, impossible to heal. The cargo I carry with me on this trip is innocent it is perfect, I try as I must to avoid spreading my hatred to it. I try as I must to maintain it's innocence, for it's whole being depends on me separating my anguish from my love for it. I do not want my despair being a forming factor in it's morals. I do not know where to go, the road is getting shorter, the hurt is building I can not contain it much longer.

Love is a dangerous thing and these walls I have built around myself have not helped to protect me. When you allow someone to love you and you know you are broken, you damage not only them but yourself. When you realize the damage it is to late to change the outcome. I tried to support and grow at the cost of containing my inner problems. All I have done is endanger all of us on this road. I feel the desperation, I feel the walls I have built closing, I am alone at the wheel, I am lost... They are so young.
ug4209 ug4209
Dec 2, 2012