"Pulling myself out of Hell," a fictional poem

It's been five months, five long, painful months,

I've been pulling myself out of Hell.

The mental anguish that took control of me,

the trauma of my past, so visible with me everyday, yet amorphous,

obscured by feelings and thoughts that have molded themselves,

in the years since it happened. The vitriol and fear they instilled within me,

and the ways I succumbed to them, seductive as they were,

changed everything. 

From the way I viewed myself to the way I get out of bed in the morning,

everything collapsed. Voices lurking,

in my head, taunting, screaming, criticizing,

But things are different now.

I take aim at the demons inside of me,

and take control of my life, slowly.

Through appreciation, daily activities mostly but also the more elusive gems of

philosophizing and romanticizing the world, and 

meditation, clearing my mind and cleansing my soul,

loneliness, brokenness, emptiness fading away,

I share this view.