Swallow those gargled words
or spit them out. It doesn’t matter.

This feeling -

it’s when you
stumble
into pitfall traps
and find skeletons in the dirt
and you get reminded
of how many people have lived
before you, how many
have died
and how many have
fallen
the
same
way

you

have

-it’s not
quite
happiness
but it’s comforting, to say the least
to know you are not alone
in waging a war against the Devil himself
or merely, in retaliation

“You might not be the protagonist,
but you are certainly the hero of your story.”
(But maybe I’m just comforting myself.)