Shadow

The part of me that lies.
The part of me that schemes.
The part of me that takes when it is better to give.
The part of me that forgoes gratitude.
The part of me that envies.
The part of me that is never satisfied but gives up and gives in.
The part of me that pretends.
The part of me that merely survives.
The part of me that trades grace for pleasure.

The shadow is constantly working me, working me and persistently tapping on my shoulder. The shadow is angry and wants to be heard. The shadow is destructive and feeble-minded yet brilliant. The shadow survives and daily wages battle, sometimes quietly, sometimes with rage, but always with persistence. The shadow has a child’s mind, but harbors no innocence.

Every day I must contend with the shadow, and at times it can be exhausting. During those times when I think that I have come to know myself , I must also stop and concede that I will forever also be a mystery.

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Shadow

The part of me that lies.
The part of me that schemes.
The part of me that takes when it is better to give.
The part of me that forgoes gratitude.
The part of me that envies.
The part of me that is never satisfied but gives up and gives in.
The part of me that pretends.
The part of me that merely survives.
The part of me that trades grace for pleasure.

The shadow is constantly working me, working me and persistently tapping on my shoulder. The shadow is angry and wants to be heard. The shadow is destructive and feeble-minded yet brilliant. The shadow survives and daily wages battle, sometimes quietly, sometimes with rage, but always with persistence. The shadow has a child’s mind, but harbors no innocence.

Every day I must contend with the shadow, and at times it can be exhausting. During those times when I think that I have come to know myself , I must also stop and concede that I will forever also be a mystery.

One Comment Add yours

  1. Kim says:

    I have looked at this post at least half a dozen times. I love reading it, and looking at the picture.

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