doves.

Sacrifice- a killing of the dove.

i've killed the dove that once peacefully flew over bridges and streams

some may question if i was too young to let go

i don't remember when or how i killed the white bird

just now i was reminded of my bloody hands while standing over my kitchen sink.

The older we get, does our list of sacrifices shrink or grow?

and is a sacrifice considered a bad thing if in the end, some greatness reigns champion?

does my happiness make someone sad?

or even the slightest blue?

i don’t drink much for the sake of my vanity. 

i don’t distract myself with counterfeit people for the sake of my mind. 

i don’t have much time with my loved ones for the sake of my pursuits. 

i have grown to love each of my sacrifices. 

with each sacrifice, i section off different versions of my life.

one sacrifice leads to another version of my life

every decision makes each version of my life seem so polarizing

i see myself as a painter and each sacrifice as an oil color

i play and paint as i choose.

Everyone reading this can think of that one sacrifice that makes them itch. 

my one sacrifice morphed a new version of motives.

this version is my friend and enemy. 

forcing me to wake up every morning to prove worthy of that sacrifice 

and adopting a new motive to live the extravagant life i'm led to lead. 

that’s all i can ask myself to do because 

regret would creep in.

the worst feeling of all.