By Ryan Miller

You’re looking for something that you won’t, nor do you want to find.
It’s your personal witch-hunt that you’ve haplessly and recklessly designed.
Why would one subject themself to such torture? It’s the current moment and vibes that’s experiencing your forfeiture.

Of course, things are not always what they present to be at face value.
One should and will inspect what they expect and I understand that from you.
But when and where does the overstepping of your investigation subside and go to die?
If not for the sake of your own sanity, I’d hope you’d consider it for mine.

What is it you fear so deeply that it calls you to dig so blind? Sifting through ashes of fiction, scorning the peace you might find. Every question and concern you throw like a dagger returns to your hand.  Yet you sharpen it still, like the truth alone can’t stand.

We’ve all been haunted by shadows we swore were someone else’s sins, But when the smoke clears, it’s typically our own fire that burns from within. So tread lightly through the wreckage you’ve built in suspicion’s name. Not all witch hunting leads to found guilt and the riddles are part of a not so fun game.

I won’t beg you to trust what you’re unwilling to see.  But understand that at times your search has also imprisoned me. If peace is what you seek, let the ghosts finally rest. Sometimes the hardest magic is learning to guess less.