Epiphany

An epiphany hides inside my world.

I tell her not to come, not now, not yet.

Conceal yourself.

I burry you with a well-knit ignorance.

In a corner, it stands as a little grounded child, quietly waiting to be given the right to stand again.

I have no power to deal with you now.

I am not ready.

Epiphany: waking up from this nightmare would be, at first, salvation, but mostly a painful realization.

Shhh

I don't want to notice how weak, sick and trapped I remained.

Oh God, for this long!

Epiphany! do not ban me from living these moments.

I already lost what I would never regain.

How silly of me!

Even my fear wasn't scared enough.

Not enough for survival.

He wouldn't act right away to heal at last.

Wounded, he dragged himself home only to look back at all the blood he lost along the way.

Don't come at all!

At which terrifying moment would you come?

When would you swiftly run across my mind?

I will ignore how to breathe for a while.

I will try to collect my pieces back together.

You will dry my throat.

Sweat will cool my body.

Heartbeats will ridiculously dance at an extremely slow paste.

Something, somewhere, somehow, will drop.