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Periodically writing random thoughts on a piece of paper is my secret escape. Left for healing and mending. Right for healing and mending. Painful, nonetheless. Don't be ashamed. I am the scrawler of my racing thoughts and cannot seem to scribble out a delimited shape to catch where I would like my fate to fall. Sometimes my passion is a brush stroke in the wrong direction. I wish for everyone to get a tiny piece, but they don't even make it on the pie chart of priority before the bullies lick their fork and start hunting for something else. -Predators Prey- Two children rise and smile to greet the sunshine after the rain. Sweat drips from their pores just the same, but one is from forced labor of gathering recycled water from the night before and the other from the luxury of school and play. Two men leave their wives for the day, but one is an obsessive business man, wealthy in possessions, and the other a beggar, wealthy in instincts, surviving on the streets. I wonder if it would be better if we couldn't see. Bushes don't weep at the death of fallen leaves at their feet. Water doesn't change course because of obstacles unforeseen. Birds never stop singing and migration never ceases due to overthinking. When I am alone, I have the freedom to hone the embodiment of imperfections in my expressions in that I have become both a stimuli on the inside and the outside. In those moments I have no influence. I am everybody and everything I have ever wanted to be. I do not pretend that I belong anywhere else except the small space that I am. All anyone can do is chose the pace and vibrancy. Being human, it can seem like a long journey. We make mistakes, we create chaos, things come our way that we don't understand and we tend to look for a lending hand to pull us up, but sometimes it isn't enough and you're left in a white knuckled grip tempted to let go, hold on tight; it'll be all right. You see, we are all given the same thing except the ability of perfect timing to have the life everyone wants to lead. Love comes in the aftermath of tragedy and heartache makes headlines after love. Each cannot be something without the other because unity is found in progress through suffering. Human life in it's simplest form is to simply appreciate human life. If there ever is an opportunity that arrises within the small space that you are It is only you that can choose, if you wish, to assist a helping hand in the link to our oneness.
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