Burdens

A long time ago there was a man that struggled. He struggled with friends, school, family, God and himself. There was a great deal of pain and suffering involved, for although this man fought for right, he did wrong. Although he committed wrongs, he repented but only to fall back in the cycle. Eventually that led him down a path of darkness, a path that was unfamiliar, dangerous and inflicted the man with pain. The path was familiar; a sharp pain shot through his body as he the memories flooded back to him in a wave of nausea. The reality was, he had been down this path, a path he knew was wrong, a path he knew was dark. He turned to his savior that had pulled him back from he depths once before, but was greeted with nothing. An overwhelming sense of loss overcame him, as he fought back globus hystericus. Where? Why? He looked down at his wrist, where tethered once was the saving line that pulled him from the dark before, but only saw the raw and blistered mark that was left where it had been ripped away. It was all that had kept the man from losing his way, keeping him close to his savior. He looked down the path where he had just come from, and it began to fade away, vanishing into the distance. Turning back down, the teasing whispers coaxed with lust, greed, and the taste of bitter-sweet. He traveled further, into the thorns that cut deep into the skin, pouring bloods down in bright red streaks. The whispers taunted the man's mind, tearing at his soul, breaking his defenses. He listened to those voices, knowing full well that the path he was on was dark and deadly. Eventually the man become lost in a mist that shrouded everything around him, holding him down and threatened to suffocate him. He shouted and no one heard, firmly held by the invisible in the night that had him captive. His feet dredged through the swampy thickness, his legs burning and immovable. A sudden weight pushed on his shoulders and forced the man to his knees, where the flames of the coldness licked at his fingertips, taking him down into the murk. He closed his eyes. He could feel the cold creep up his body, slithering its way around his neck, over his face. A tingle rippled down his spine as the snake tightened its grip, digging a foothold deep into the bone. He could feel the snake taking it from him; his hopes, dreams, love and life.

Slowly.
Meticulously being taken.
Dark.
Darker.
Darkest.
Gone.