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The ability to see the world
like someone else
is extraordinarily difficult.

Each person sees the world
uniquely and distinctly.

Pain, joy, love, sadness, remorse are unique
to each of us as snowflakes and raindrops.

Thus, the ability to communicate, understand,
and appreciate another person is to say
the least an overwhelming struggle and undertaking.

Yet, we seem to do so to some degree,
each and every day.

Our very existence as a species is absolutely
and completely dependent on our success
at connecting with each other.

Imagine, with all our concerns, troubles,
and issues, if as a species,
we were just a bit more lazy.
Posed 15 AUG 2015
The mad
do not truly exist
in our world.

They live in their own
so their madness
makes sense.
I can confidently say
that I believe
to have been right
many times.

But more importantly,
I have been wrong as much.

I used to worry
and regret those moments.

I now make every effort
to embrace them.

I want to learn
as much as I can
about who I am.

I can only do so
by testing myself,
understanding my attributes and flaws,
then doing better.

It is not
what the world expects,
but the world
does not carry or care
of my burdens or rewards.

I go forth
with in trepidation
and anticipation.
True friends
give nothing more
than all of themselves
Edited. Posted 23 Sep 2013
Spent time of honor
with those that would
throw themselves into flames
without protest.

Lyrics drawn upward,
only for angels to hear
and the dead to remember.

Pride obtained on behalf
of those seen
without and unwilling.
Posted 23 Sep 2013
I am quite aware
of the prison I exist in,
and that my surroundings
may look bleak and desperate.
Yet, others may never see
the paradise that the darkness disguises,
as I dine in certainty.
I am touched both by angels and demons,
hearing their whispers and cries.
I suspect they dream of their destiny,
and likely that their past,
no matter how sweet,
are masked as nightmares.
This is the judgement we all bear,
just as we sentence others
so we can tolerate our own guilt and regret.
Posted July 31, 2015
Walking on slick tile floors
With caution signs around
Passing rich aging ******
Among crowds underground
Talking all to themselves
When the last dragon fed
On those shows about elves
From books we never read
While thieves on stage debate
On the crumbling public health
We are all licking our plates
Overwhelmed by hunger felt
Counting time for nothing
From all those lies told
Bosses ordered the shoving
That drove out the old
Finally to the stairwells
Up to brightly holy lights
Caught up in spoken spells
Of what prayers take our rights
Onto many more levels
Full of signs for us to shop
From charming packs of devils
On our journey that never stops
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