I think I will write a series which I will call metaphors of the broken soul.

The first one I wrote was called SCAR and you can read it . This one is called BATTLE. 

I have seen this: a battle that is both sinister and secret. All flavors and forms of unkept passions take the field: Self-righteous anger fights frozen rage fights bone-bleak bitterness. This triple war cannot be won. The terrible cost creates nothing but a wasteland of loss. There is no victory. There is only a hollow-husked victim. FIRE! and ICE! and POISON! All cry for justice and drive for satisfaction. Their engine is filled with a false fuel that never runs dry. Beneath the self-deception, lies the true source of the call to arms: here, loneliness lurks, insecurity festers, peace is consumed, and anxiety abounds. DESTROY! DOMINATE! DEVOUR! The fight brings only one thing: distraction, a self-forced forgetting of the brokenness within. For it is easier to shake the fist, than to shudder your face. Easier to fight and find fake victories, than it is to surrender and lose everything.

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