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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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