On my way home.

Acceptance is subjective, apparently,
and shock + recoil the best reaction.

Stinging words whip at me and I find I cannot back away.
The pain (sting, slash) keeps me alive and sane,
for what seems too good to be true
probably is.

Cynicism repeatedly rears its malicious head,
these days.
And I long for the warm, wild comfort of the sun again.