Four ways to view a soul: each fragment a path, each reflection a different truth. Placeholder image by Midjourney v7.
Schrödinger Soliloquy II (4 ways)
In the crucible of choice, I stand alone,
A shattered mirror, reflecting shards of soul.
To forge ahead or yield to undertow?
Each path a perilous journey, still unknown.
The voices whisper, "Surrender, cease the fight,"
Yet in the depths, a rebel spark ignites.
"The void will soothe, oblivion will save,"
"Persist, resist, let hope rewrite this night."
I am the chessboard, king and pawn in one,
Each move a battle, ending scarce begun.
The game is rigged, the rules a twisted jest,
But still I play, for in the play I’m blessed.
Though scarred and weary, I will rise again,
For I have grown beneath the weight of pain.
A phoenix born of ashes and of tears,
With wings of wisdom, forged by countless years.
In sorrow’s crucible, I’ve been refined,
A tapestry of wounds and grace entwined.
Each thread a story, each scar a sacred sign,
Of battles fought, of losses, victories mine.
I choose to dance amidst the flames once more,
To craft a life from fragments on the floor.
For in this struggle lies a strange sweet art,
Transforming brokenness to healing’s start.
I am the alchemist, the lead, the gold,
The tale unfinished, waiting to be told.
So I’ll rewrite this ending, line by line,
And prove that hope, not death, will be the sign.
Desperate defiance in the dark
Voice vanishing, vaporised by virtual vitriol
Algorithms amplify absence, abandonment
Words once winged now wither, wane
Trauma's tendrils tighten, twist, torment
Silence. Deafening. Oppressive. Inescapable.
Childhood's cruel cacophony echoes, endures
Rape's raw rage resurfaces, relentless
Abuse's ache amplifies, accumulates
Gaslighting's glare grows, guts grace
A chill wind of indifference swept through the room, leaving me shivering and unseen.
Neurodivergent narratives, now nullified
Vestibular vertigo, vision vacillating
Fibrous fire flares, flays fragile flesh
Depression's darkness deepens, devastating
The empty chair across from me seemed to mock my solitude,
its vacant seat a cruel reminder of my isolation.
Social streams shrink, shrivelling slowly
Platforms purge purpose, passion, power
Identity invalidated, invisibility impending
Self-worth withers like wilting flower
In silence, I found solitude; in solitude, I embraced silence
Yet still, soft syllables simmer, survive
Waiting, whispering: "We will rise."
For even silenced, stifled, suppressed
The soul's song softly, surely sighs
Through the hollow halls, past the empty rooms,
beyond the echoing silence,
a single, defiant voice dared to speak
In the depths of this suffocating silence,
A flicker persists, refuses to die.
Though the world may try to extinguish our light,
We will rise, reclaim our stolen sky.
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