No Mans Land

I found myself at odds, whether it be pen to paper or here, typed extensively and painstakingly at the cost of my own fingertips.

I have nightmares of the bones of what my hands are comprised, the many different phalanges I possess frozen protruding my flesh in a nightmare that feels so real i cannot awaken…

I ultimately as always eventually do, awaken that is. Only to find that my perfectly average life with [erratically average problems are a relief in comparison to the nightmares that flicker with remnants of lives past.

Not true fiction, not true reality, just somewhere in between the both…

In the no mans land of my war riddled mind.

If asked to imagine my life as a movie with from beginning to now able to pinpoint the worst instance of my sorry existence I find myself at odds with the truth and my people pleasing tendencies.

Only ultimately. Saying what I think they want to hear and not the truth I feel at my core.

Is that why my body betrays me so? Because I forsake my own soul and beliefs, character, valour, on the line…for what? The sakes and arts of pleasing?

Am I lying to myself at the greatest if capacities only to please those that wish my destruction?

Why do I find it so impossible to be true to myself? Is it the separation I feel inside my mind? Is it the split and warring off my soul?

Is it the very visual displacement of self I wear as armor? Do they think I joke when I say half of me is black and white and half is color?!

Is it simply thought to be a dramatization of some sorts? Instead of the silent protest that it is??

How much color must I drain from myself for anyone to listen to my silent screams?

Must I become blue in the face as I was when i was born?? Am I finally becoming colorfully myself or is it being drained from my very existence?

A question I have no answer to as of late. Some days I feel powerful and full of rage for war and honor, others completely colorless and defeated. My true self lives somewhere between the push and pull. The black and white world and the colorful one.
In the no mans land of my chest. The purgatory of the hole where my heart once lie, now simply an empty desolate, hopeless place within the war of my forgotten wandering soul.