Miss Conception

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Truth and Happiness wait patiently, anchored just out of reach. But no one who has lived knows this path to be without common obstacle. Within sight and reality, who stands in my way? Subtle and persistent, her whispers coerce. Like the juice of a lemon, exhilarating and stinging, Miss Conception drips into the wrinkles of her victim's brain in secret, becoming transparent like a membrane and nearly unrecognizable.
The most infectious of liars, Miss Conception breeds injustice and nurtures deception. "You have reached a dead end. The world has already outlined your stencil character, it's too late. Your miserable future is inevitable" she taunts. The lies coat my thoughts soothingly when I lift my eyes to survey the source. Where a flawless figure should be stands instead a daunting mirrored reflection, planted in a warily defensive stance. Glaring. Daring. "Nothing you can do now, you're too weak to change yourself, too weak to grasp your world that uncontrollably goes on without you." No! There should be more, has to be more, can't be a dead end. Rage. Compulsive anger shoves me with fists hurling at the image. She won't back down, won't shatter. Won't even meet my fury, in fact. Exhausted and defeated at my own hands, pulsing sensations rip my nerves and bright red catches my weak eyes. I'm bleeding. Miss Conception is laughing. Her voice fortes from sweetly subtle to overpowering. Lemon juice in my wounds.
"Look what you did to yourself. You attained control, no one can stop you. And didn't it feel beautiful? What a valiant fighter. Try and bleed me out again." She's mocking me bitterly. Something isn't right. Justice never comes in the form of a contorted body, laying defeated on a battlefield of one soldier. My thoughts silently plead and I know this has to be my own voice.
Shut her out, shut her out! She calls back, "Worthless. Weak. Hideous. Unwanted. Hit me again!" Her contrasting voice bangs like a gunshot. No.. I can't listen again. I won't.
When I dare reopen my eyes, the enemies of my outside world surround me, but someone is holding them back, making them transparent. Forgiveness graciously lifts me until my enemies are fading, unrecognizable; scampering ants under my shaky feet. My eyes draw to my original intent; Happiness and Truth. There, just out of reach. Forgiveness snuffs out my last and greatest enemy, a part of me - Miss Conception. Forgiveness takes my hand and guides me, step by justified step, towards the embracing arms of Truth and Happiness.
"Beauty is not caused. It is." - Emily Dickinson




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Wow, i seriously thought that this is a poem....Deep in meaning. Good job
When you look into the abyss, the abyss also looks into you -Friedrich Nietzsche




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Hrmph... Pretty good, I suppose. It could've been a poem! Excellent... job well done.
Formerly TheScratchMan.




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Hi there. Lavvi in to review.

Wow. Yeah, this was a good read. Most definitely original. As some say, it could have been a poem. But I say, it's way better unpoemed.

A very interesting concept you took. You executed the idea extremely well and articulated everything almost what seemed easily. I enjoyed it through and through.

But I am not going to throw praises only. Let's get on with some form of review, shall we?

Er, I'm a little low on criticisms at the moment.

I quite enjoyed how you used personification to represent this. It's not very often I see personification in use other than during a poem, but in prose, it can be gorgeous.

Yeah,um. This was a good impression.

Well done.

Yours,
Lavvi
this tender selfmetamorpoiesisi have returned with the swell

What is to give light must endure burning. – Viktor Frankl



Most things happen for a reason. Though, usually, the forces that be are immature enough that the reason is comedy.
— WeepingWisteria