I feel bad for him who waits at the bench night and day braving elements of sun and moon withstanding forces of men and need
I feel sorry for his room that has paper with faces in one corner a circle with a dozen numbers in another with one Space in between and a hanging open soul in the middle
I feel pity for the one that has to stand alone to fight and pick up other's battles to his last drop of breath
I feel Sorry for his demise that whatever left that's meaningful Is useless but only not to him for his find was nothing but ancient, rare, dead, and gone.
I feel Nothing for them who did not see it in the first but had a blocked rear view for they faced only their own road
Feel free to interpret this however you may. Leave a like!
for once I choose to dip us (then) in honey, steep us in jasmine, I am not sugar-coating, just preserving, just for once forgetting that bad happens, that good can stay if you let it.
(c) Brooke Otto 2014 Written to Tetsukazu no Kanjou
Ever have those moments When your past starts to hunt you? Suddenly everything fades into darkness... It starts to put you into some kind of trance Screaming into your ear... "Remember me? Remember me!" Then you mourn Then you weep As if time repeated itself... You feel the pain you left behind It seems so real But its not.
It's a lie. An illusion. Don't drown in it. It's not worth your time.