The Path Poem by Vasto Grom

As I walk down this path of sorrows I feel the flames of their hate and fear sear my bare flesh again and again as the razor-sharp rocks shred my feet with every step only to heal when I lift my foot and be shredded once more with my next step. I have walked this path since I was but six years old and now twelve years later the pain is still as agonizing as the first day. I see faces contorting with rage and disgust from behind the flames on either side of me. They fear and dispise me as they scream at me, forever screaming. They accuse me of ruining their lives or how I am a horrible person and I deserve this. My body is covered in the scars left by the flames of their hatred and I am so very tired of walking this path of misery. Always though beside me is the black goblet that if I drink from it I will find my peace and will feel no more. However, if I were to drink from the goblet I will lose what little I have left in this world. I find my fortitude weakening with each day and the goblet always growing closer. But this path I walk always has a light that I follow. But the light does not signify any material object but instead it is the friendship shown to me by one single person. For she has always shown me kindness and it is becuase of her I stay my hand from that which offers eternal peace. Thank you my dearest Rebecca for believing in me and being there when I needed you most.