Another jail returned me to myself

 The only feeling that compares in power to a heart lost to ones own foolish desires, is a heart regained through a merciful touch from something higher than ones self. 

In a cell I fell to my knees and cried "I hate myself. Please! Please give me back my heart"! 

When you give away your heart, you give away yourself. This is a tantalizingly sweet game. Though it is one of great danger and though, for me, it holds claim to immense passion, it fell true that I used it as only a distraction. 

I believe that I can do something with my life. Although this may seem good in its purest essence. It is also a belief that carries terrible responsibility. To say I can do something good is to require faith in myself that I don't truly believe I possess. 

And fears grows within me and its vine suffocate the air from my lungs. 

It came down to lost freedom to look at myself in a metal mirror and cry. It'd be better to try and fail then to fail through never trying at all. 

Did I give the girl my heart? No. No I did not. I gave way to my simple quitters nature. To quit before the first step had fallen. The first step to a life worth living. To a life worth retelling as my days grow fewer. I want a story, and a story I do have. Though without my heart? Without carrying my soul in my own hands. How could accept my own downfall? I hadn't need of looking inward and accepting that I am a loser, a talker, a wearer of masks, and a man who deserves nothing more than what I have received because I have never tried to be great. 

I have only accepted mediocrity in my life. 

So the only power in my experience greater than holding my heart out for another to hold..

Was the day I reheld my heart in my own hands. 

Today I am me. 

Today I woke in a cell, in jail yellows, and tonight I am home. 

Though I felt at home that first night back in a cold hard jail. 

Because it was that cell that returned me to myself. 

-Butterfly 

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