I never understood the understanding of how such pivotal moments can either make you a believer or banish all of your beliefs. Then, I understood all too well when that moment took my mind for a detour that derailed my train and I wasn’t a hot mess, I was wrecked from worthless words that brought forth a fury and wrath that would rock my world. I was a rebellious soul raging from the scorched surroundings and my soul was scattered. I was angry at the ever after that after all the beautiful lies turned to brutal truth. Something stirred inside a box darkness, demanding and devoured daddy’s little girl. The very man that placed the box inside the safest sanctuary he saw. His legacy, his legend he’d leave behind. His daughter with dark eyes and his sweet disposition.
A box of darkness wrapped in magic that even made me move the lid aside. At sixteen one peek and I pierced a soul with a world without his own free will. At eighteen I tore his free will into thousands of non-existent pieces that I pushed into a pretty lie. Then a blue eyed devil dared me to pop the top completely off a box that even pandora put away. The price of wanting such power, the power that poured out of the box behind my black eyes, consumed the chaos and burning I felt from the inside out. It blazed out of control. Fires and flames found me, and I was as free as a bird, destroying myself for the moments that made me a believer.
Believing in the beyond isn’t by the book for anyone that bet their britches need a written word or proof provided.

© Tabetha Simpson