every day feels like a blank page I stare into emptiness as words fly into one ear and out the other always telling myself that I'll make something out of each new page I am given that I might fold it into something new but I'm always too afraid I might mess up the structured square that is my life.
something had snapped. I had severed our bond on a whim the cut became irreversible and I watched my helpless efforts of mending it fall into space as the warmth flowed out of my body until there was nothing left in my worthless veins and I was cold and empty again
I used to think to have a drink no matter where it be, would bring me bliss that I would miss when sober thoughts haunt me, but what I've found through many rounds of shots what matters most, is quality of company and most of all the host.
Virtue signaling and destruction abound A uniting goal nowhere to be found Too high on emotion for critical thought Pallets of bricks the anonymous bought
The stamping of boots upon human faces Shadows fueling a war of the races History repeated every four years For votes from a populous motivated by fear