A Black Distorted

Last night, I discovered a piece of me that i knew existed, but denied most of my life.  It was a secret I knew lingered just out of my reach. The kind that takes time, or rather timing…to reveal.

I was raised in a family built on generations of moral stronghold.  The world is a place colored in black or white, the grays are just the black distorted.  This is a pedestal of course, the kind that keeps you above the truth.  Far above the ability to reveal the pieces of you and the pieces of your family that lie in the gray.

If you stay too long on top of that pedestal, the secrets become lies.  The lies you tell to yourself, and the world, change you.  You become not who you are, but what you are supposed to be.  But there are moments, few and farther between, that the mind darts quickly back to that which you cannot deny. It won’t stay long.  It can’t. Because if you are going to stay on that pedastal you have to see the world without color. Be perfect. Be right.

I wanna see the world in color.

I wanna be off the pedestal.

I wanna be free.

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