Seeking solace from inward anger,
he seeks someone whose guidance might
shield him from himself during those intolerable
moments when murderous rages and oceans of guilt
urge him on to repair the damage done,
first by torturing the suicidal assassin in
the mirror then shackling him to the reflection of
his immeasurable and unforgiveable flaws,
leaving him to wither in well-deserved agony.

The universe taunts him, first teasing him with
promises of guidance then denying him access
to soothing words of wisdom that might suture
his self-inflicted wounds and stem the invisible
flow of lethal emotional hemorrhaging.

Pain, the rapids of a swollen emotional river that
tears into the brittle banks of a churning channel,
continues in a perpetual flood, tormenting him with
memories of every inexcusable act and omission that
hides evidence of his love and compassion behind a wall of
fear and anger that—when he looks inward—seems like
selfish disregard for almost everyone outside of himself.

And so it goes for the broken man for whom healing and
forgiveness are impossibilities—unreachable hopes in return
for inflicting pains that follow in his footsteps.

About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes
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