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I would always tell myself that all will be well, once time is given the opportunity.

But what proof has it given me so far?

Because from my perspective, the more the wound sits and marinates, that's when the wound gets infected.

But it's how the world told me to cope with the pain of it. They told me to believe in a process, and try not to think about the loss. And in time, it was a practice I had perfected.

I'd gotten a little too good and ignoring what went through me cranium on the daily.

But with all the whispers from the demons, I could see a realm of clarity, even if only vaguely.

It was this fraction of a second when the turmoil turned to a river.

When the volcano turned into a hillside. I could ignore the people who had left me for dead. I could forget how my mother had changed sides.

I could forget the egotistical meat heads in the 7th grade who had nearly destroyed me by the gym side.

There was difficulty, yes, but through that difficulty there was a place where I controlled the difficulty. It was then where I could tune to my surroundings, then where I changed my sensitivity.

And the demons still haunt me, truly, but I would grow used to their sirens.

I had changed their screams to whispers. Transformed understanding through violence.

Ignoring the demons will only turn the lemon more sour.

Pretending the demons are sleeping will only make them scream Louder.