Although I hate I don't wish ill on other sometimes I do though Either way, there are times when ill wishes for us
And though this is the case don't look up for if you look up you will create a second mask but fear not This is not a guide instead this is just but a hindrance that I shall impose on thee For I am not omniscient nor objective
I am just a fool born with their confidence so that is why I trust that you see and believe me when I say, don't look up
You would need to break you neck in order to look up now with all these excuses in your head
Look up For you are not done yet you are just like the others So reach for everything you can from the galaxies, to the teary moon you see
for We are waiting for We are who have gone through mediocracy and a cold part of hell for We are not done yet with everything
Creeping and crawling like grub worms under bark — Under the surface
Eating without cause Wake up as an immovable object — Inside looking out
Some days I wake up and all of my faults are before me. It is my belief that God reveals them to me progressively so that I can seek to amend certain things and experience forgiveness or help to restore. Otherwise, I can’t explain why certain things from 18 years ago pop up out of nowhere.
you're a screen. a glass. but you fell face first and now you're breaking. you've always been breaking since early before. the shards come loose and fall with the dirt. you're always losing shards. why are you so cracked. why can't you be one whole glass, one full screen, maybe with a few scratches but the cracks are too deep and you're falling apart. stop falling apart. i don't want you to crack all the way and become destroyed. you're already cracked enough. you've been dropped but fixed but dropped one too many times and you need a surgeon to help replace those shards you lost along your journey.
you're very oh so gentle and delicate. maybe even one more drop can cause you to break completely.
you're such a flower. so beautiful. but once you start picking at the leaves, it starts to decay. it starts to rot. you pull off the pedals and mess with the stem, slowly suffering. pull the flower out from the ground and you're a goner, you don't know how to replant, do you? no, you don't. so you die.
i don't want you to die. i don't want to lose you. my flower. beautiful and powerful but yet so delicate and light. so easily to be taken to the route of death.
i'm no flower. i'm just a rock. not beautiful. not delicate. but too rough and scarring. i hate being a rock.
i break things. i don't fix much. i'm a burden. i'll always be there. in the corner looking at the flowers, but if i get too close i'll crush you and your beauty, your power.
i've crushed you enough as a rock.
i wish i could change but i don't get to do anything different it seems like. just a ******* burden on everything.
publishing old pieces i never showed the world. found these in my icloud notes and one-note.