The Last Lambaste

Tim’s resolution surpassed all shadows cast upon him they had grown longer over time and hell had frozen Rain had relegated him to a trough of his own making He sat in a muddy pit once ice thawed a slippery past ‘They’ had showered him with a stream of accusations had lied twisted distorted and passed vicious judgement Forged forgeries of vile projections laid rumbling charges imprisoned him in a ghetto and exposed his bare mind ‘Why are they so unkind why do they have to attack me with an ice pick straight to my vulnerable unguarded heart?’ A garotte around his nape made from their razor barded wires attached to an unholy cross he inhaled venom from their fire In apathy and feeling the blame he waited for his execution put onus and fault at their doorstep and bid his final farewell ‘Why do they hurt me so much with unreasonable torture can’t they see that their malevolence amounts to my death?’ Their problems their irrational daggers their angst and emotion their acrimonious anger and self-centred nasty hatred and bile Tim had attempted to escape from his misery by looking at others took refuge in drink self-harmed cried out to thunder and lightning dangled in hangman’s dreams wired to an electric socket and found fault with the set up when his head in the oven screamed murder Mourning and moaning and coming to terms he wrote his will One last lambaste one terminal act of diminishing freedom yet he found that the pen merely scratched the surface of his plight Ink had dried and 'they' did not deserve a terminal announcement ‘They have controlled me for far too long and that was my mistake I let them do it but need to take power back that alone is my duty’ Tim sat in his debris was debrided down to his ossified skull bones took stock of his defects and misrepresentations of mounting remorse ‘One step at a time’ and ‘Just for today’ he swept his side of the bargain while taking comfort in the realisation that only he could alter himself ‘God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference’ ‘From now on I will stop complaining about others and will find the splinter in my own sticky eye will not be part of the problem but of the solution will resist censure attacks onslaughts of offensive incursions' No more drunk spirits let alone ranting censorship towards an outside ‘Pain is the touchstone of spiritual growth and my Universe is infinite whereas I am limited to my own responsibilities’ Tim concludes at last