Compound Pt III: Psychological Warfare

When fists collide in the battles of Heaven and Hell, a sickness prevails in my mind with thoughts of others. A pounding in my head, a bad taste in my mouth, and a lump in my throat replace the sights and sounds trickled down through remembrance of remembrance of my yesteryear. Half truths and whole lies are a blanket of snow covering what they told me. Nothing may ever be real again. I may never be whole again. I have only one purpose now, that leaves me empty and hollow. One purpose that leaves me stricken with contempt for my higher power , though He truly was the one who chose this path for me. Had he seen things differently, I might've been more optimistic to all that surrounds me.

My fists continue to beat against the Pearly Gates, knuckles bloody with my growing contempt. Am I now the Hell in the incessantly growing battle with Heaven? I'm losing the fight. I still turn a blind eye to what has inevitably been chosen as my purpose. Still losing. Side by side with the devil himself and still losing.

I never asked to be here. I'm stuck here on the losing team. Losing the battle for my life. It's inevitable. I've already lost.