When the dark descends…

Momma,
I don’t understand.
Why does it feel
every single day
as though I don’t belong?

Momma,
I don’t understand.
Why does it feel
all of the time
as though everything is wrong?

Momma,
I don’t understand.
Why does it feel
every second
as though I am wrong?

I don’t understand…

Don’t be silly child.
It’s all in your imagination.
Just go look in the mirror
and you will see
that you are created to my likeness
with a head and a neck
two arms
torso
two legs.

You walk like us.
You talk using words like us.
Therefor, you are one of us.

But Momma,
the image
it changes
all the time.

I don’t always see the same thing
when I look at the reflection.
As though cells are shifting
according to an internal war
raging,
it’s driving me crazy!

Don’t be silly child.
You’re mistaken.
What you say is impossible.
It’s just your imagination.
Speak not of these things
for it will upset others
and they will have no choice
but to send you for treatment.

More treatment Momma?
More forced indcotrination
demanding I release my curiousity
demanding I release my different point of view
demanding I regurgitate the words of another
a person I’ve never met
a person I do not know
so how can I know if we’re even having the same experience?
More medication
suppressing my emotions
my body no longer moving at free will
the way she is designed to move
as this is what has them label me as
disruptive?

Dear god NO Momma,
please!
No more treatment.
I’ll behave.
I’ll keep quiet.
I’ll say what you want me to say,
what they want me to say.

I’ll be a good girl Momma.
I’ll fit in Momma.
I’ll be…

…normal.

And so the child remains hidden
amongst the masses who never question.
The war inside
continuous to rage
and she has choices to make:
Do I finally break free from the lies
break free from the clan
break free from the spell cast on billions
revealing myself as the freak they hinted at when I was oh so young?

or

Do I continue to numb the excruciating pain
with food
with alcohol
with drugs
with work
with entertainment
with anything that will prevent me from admitting to the truth
that I don’t
and never have
belonged?

Except the child was never just human.
She was never just her soul.
She was never just an identity.
The things which defines her an outcast,
a freak of a socialised system,
a rebel raging internally against the machine
was
and is
vibration.

The vibration of love,
the vibration of truth,
the vibration of chaos,
the vibration of dark.

As a new order of dark descends upon the earth
and those who cling to light for false security
lose their minds
unwilling to acknowledge their true emotions
unwilling to be vulnerable
unwilling to be truthful to themselves,
Alphas rise
as creators of the new
in which love will once again be the only vibration in which bliss is found.

It’s time for the old to die.
So that
we may thrive.

Live with honour,
Anel