At Last

Shouts of doubt
The avalanche of harsh critique
Mild and meek, we attempt our retreat
Under the crush of it all
Yet our shields can not protect us
From that which tears at us from within
We can not win
The devil futility enrolls our participation in our own demise
We fall for the lies
We are not wise
The guillotine of self-loathing leaves us broken, scattered
What matters to a lonely soul without purpose or drive?
We must survive
And so we take up the fight to stay alive ... at last
Not silencing or shushing the voices without reason
We embrace the treason
Stationing shouts of doubt no longer at the helm of this ship
But rather under our wing
This lonesome, sweet, little thing
We protect it, not neglect it
We reveal it, not conceal it
We love it, not hate nor berate it
Inner demons hold no power
When engulfed in our mindful presence
A lasting essence
Delivering us to peace, at last, peace