It used to feel like I sold my conscience, not for pennies, but for a promise. An empty one that never delivered what was agreed upon.

It's tough to bounce back from that, but the subtle inner voice can always be trained to speak again, I believe. You can pluck one lotus from the mud, but another will bloom eventually if we plant the seed.

I loved this poem... it felt like reading fire, both burning and cleansing. Thank you so much for this one, Tochukwu. I'm always in awe over your word smithing skill. I appreciate you!