Silhouettes.

I've been living with the ghosts of all the things I've refused to say, shadows of lost possibility.

My remaining soul tries to fight against them - explaining that it is the curse of my humanity - pointing to another that has haunted me longer still: Fear. He, fixed fast upon my heart, won't let the words out.

I don't suppose these visitors care much. They're here to stay. Besides, what would be the use of winning this battle of reason? I've lost the war, my favor will never be regained, and that is why they haunt me.

But, truth be told, I'm not so sure I would want to be a part of something so terribly fragile; something so easily destroyed by swallowed words. Let these monsters taunt me; let them strip my heart of all it's substance, and let me claim the life of the tin man.

S. 

{Photo via: We Heart It}