STORIES: Self

Not good enough still haunts his days–and nights, when the sheets that shield him from the dark are torn to strips by nightmares.  And the covers keep him in but let in the sounds of all his life as well, to pick and scrabble at his mind as if to seek the diamond in the rocks.  Light glimmers off the facet in a spark or two, then fades, and hope is lost through words that can’t be killed.  Acceptance is a way of living, or so he thinks, and yet he still, enchanted by the light, will burn his wings in flames that fooled him into thinking he found home.