"maneuver" poems
#
Each body part
sizzled in pure pleasure
in the blissed wake
of your oral efforts
brought forth the waves
of rapturous delight...
Spurs poetic inspiration
in equal liberation
of desires to please.
Bodies transpose
in fluid motion
as brazen eyes meet.
Savor the voluptuous image before you.
Indulge your eyes in my carnal halo
before they roll to the back of your head.
On all fours
knees between your thighs
tips of swollen breast
caress your chest
tasting fresh honey
upon lips in a kiss.
Ripples of ardor
hover
by wet trails
of sensual kisses
suckling towards
the apex.
Breathe in
the slow motion pace
that pulsates eagerness
to the fore tumescing bulge
leaking with anticipation
of viscous lava.
Tickles of silken hair
against flesh edges closer.
Emerging subtle grumbles
in deep resonance
betray your impatience .
Hands tightly twine
in tangled hair
to maneuver
the treasure hunt.
Licked lips pause
at the sight of fire
burning in
glazed gazes
before engulfing
the throbbing member.
Plump ruby lips
greet velvety texture
in a slow deep dive.
Tongue curls around
the flavor
in a dulcet embrace.
Moans release
as grip tightens
in my hair
settles the
rhythmic pace
to taste in an
oscillating dance.
The masculine aroma of heady musk
lingering there, arouses my appetite.
With my enthusiasm
attuned to
your preferred rhythm
suckling, slurping
surface and dive
in measured unison.
Break of breath
allows tongue
freedom to roam below,
licking, soft kissing
the tender hammock
of testicles.
Tongue and lips escalate higher
to mount another assaulting dive
deeper in the depths
of the cusp in cavity.
Wetted fingers
probe even lower
circling superficially
as gasp escapes
your heavy breath;
flaming eyes lock.
Finger dips in
with expert finesse
gorging hardened growth
within a wrapped hand.
Thighs tighten
with rocking grip.
Head thrusts onward,
drilling forward
in each dive.
Salvia slips
fingers grip
lips dip
Engorged swell, flesh tightens in an intensity
of volcanic eruption ...
HALTS
assault
Pace retracts.
Loosened lips kiss tip.
*“Soon sweetheart, your time will ***
inside me as we surrender to synergy."*
#
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 7:51 AM UTC
Nothings how it looks in fact, maybe the opposite
People say I'm energetic
When I'm fighting for consciousness
Downed NyQuil to solve my imperfections
Took Benadryl to sleep
Drugs make chatter over the back and forth banter of boredom
And action
A trip to the hospital
Affects the people to care for a minute
Hallucinogens fade, but this music it stays
No 3G left **** it lets sing
Words slurred
eyes red
I don't give a **** spread love
Acceptance
And tears of joy
The ones that run over the face of a baby boy
Mama's proud
Baby you're so smart!
You're gonna be so successful!
Yeah I remember those days
Now its nicotine sticks on my lips and E's for my mom to brag about
They think I'm lost
Am I?
Testing to be done
Society approved pills to pop
And a letter from my aunt
Words spread like dye in water
I've dropped
Down from the heaven of the early years
Lucifer can maneuver his way around the city unnoticed
A spy who tells lies to himself and greets the people as equal
Human again
I'd like to be
All I want to do is live!
But a life's money, family, and a plan
Floaters get flushed
Couch potatoes get crushed
Lazy *****
Ha
They just get fat
Like these joints everybody wants to roll
**** is for beginners but what happens to the pros?
No trophy for the taking
No stack of gold
Just a massive headache
And dependence
Diet coke doesn't count
My sis puts her heart on her sleeve
Me
I don't even think I have one
No wait it's up my ***
**** me good **** me long
That only love is what turns me on
If not
Keep out
Of my head
Or
Switch, light
Too god **** bright to illuminate
these white walls I'm hired to paint
24hrs, 365 days a year, until the day it’s complete
Avoidance
Births time from time
Cuts wrists to elbow
Show how mellow
I can be
Let me cope
Every days a new day
Born today die tomorrow
Next day
Wake up
Look in the mirror and decide
what you'd like to see
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 4:22 AM UTC
An abstract gait
Surrounded by coils of binary and luminescence.
Suave, purple suits clasping to morphed skin.
Electrical vibes, transistors atomically sized.
Brain dives, the concept of thought diluted.
She can only wish it was palpable.
In a mirror mirage,
Static fumbles,
Repos the limelight.
Cyberpunk gen, neo-noir,
A relevant memento.
Deciphering the metaphysical is
Unattainable.
***** it all,
Maneuver the landscape.
Might as well enjoy the sights
In the nick of a quivering snap.
Jan 28, 2012
Jan 28, 2012 at 6:00 PM UTC
Writing for me is simple..
Lyrically ready to maximize my potential..
I have something to say I don't blow hot air like a inner tube...
Tell them liars they need to relax..
I am the type to push it to the max..
Switching gears and lanes until the governor snap ..
I cannot be contain..
Like the green hulk fighting the thing
I wish you could take a walk through my brain..
You would see different things depending on the time of day...
Like dead people, relatives that passed in my memories they live...
Times of my youth when I was a kid...
I didn't smile much.
I was a good kid I didn't wild much...
Pops sold crack so I styled much ...
Gun shots in Baltimore, my pops died once...
In my mind I question a ****
Like are they always ready to ****
Or does life have them Close to the edge..
Of a cliff a jagged hill
And they don't want to die in this dog eat dog world..
So they let blood spill..
I wonder if I was a G would I bang.
Red or blue claim a gang.
Be like Larry Hoover...
A young shooter...
In and out of prison I maneuver
Run the block like a ruler...
Be part of the the trash like manure
Be a coke runner a drug mover..
Corrupting the body of drug users. ..
Would I be known as a survivor
Escaping death more than MacGyver
Embrace the streets as truth knowing that's it a liar...
Nickname my gun human torch cause it fires
I wonder cause honestly I don't have a gun
This poetry is my weapon..
I am only gangsta through my lyrical aggression
Day 1 down...I am up to the challenge.
A poem a day ..to test my talent...
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 4:14 AM UTC
In my backyard, the deep sauce
of sun-gold air swivels lazily,
stirred by the occasional bumblebee.
I’m entertained by the idea of anything beyond this.
No continents, no glitter-splashed ocean.
The softened world settles into itself,
transforming from its usual busyness.
Squash lounges in the garden and
preschool train operators maneuver Thomas
through his wooden kingdom.
They move trees and buildings around their set and we,
still fascinated with the cucumber in the garden,
don’t look up from skimming our fingers through grass,
changing our own soil kingdoms with the sweep of a hand.
Dec 15, 2011
Dec 15, 2011 at 10:33 PM UTC
what is PTSD they ask
it’s not knowing which
way is right or left
it’s not knowing how
to maneuver your own mood swings
it’s trying to find your way
through a dark maze during the night
with not an ounce of light to guide you
it’s suicidal tendencies
it’s never thinking you’re enough
it’s thinking you’re *****
it’s thinking you’re useless
it’s thinking you’re used
its thinking you’re undeserving
it’s icing people out at the second
you start to feel emotion
it’s numbing yourself to the world
it’s laying in bed
it’s not being able
to move your body
for days on end
because the pain
strikes to the bone
it’s aches
its going a year out of treatment
and you were strong
until the anniversary month roles around
and suddenly you are a glass house
with stones being pelted to the core
it’s lost years
years of life I may
never fully remember
it’s nightmares
the gut wrenching ones
that night replaying
over and over and over
but most of all
it’s guilt
for not being able
to save my 7 year old self
Mar 2, 2019
Mar 2, 2019 at 3:15 AM UTC
if you want to leave me
i think that is okay
i’ll still remember you
in the pages of my old notebook
doodled over and torn
stained with cherry coke
i’ll read the diary entry
about the time you took my innocence
and how it was
beautiful
if you want to leave me
i think i’ll be okay
because you’re still buried deep in me
like the way ants create castles in the ground
you are the tunnels that i maneuver around
you’re artwork on a wall
too obscure to understand
but yet
everybody understands the sadness emanating
and they cry
because it’s beautiful
i cry because you’re beautiful
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 4:30 PM UTC
"love is a losing game", but for so long
i never understood that song, until,
i became a piece that you discarded,
left scorned and broken-hearted. it was
unbeknownst to me, but you knew exactly
how to maneuver your poison into my veins
and you made your home in my bones
without requesting my permission, having no intentions
of remaining any longer than your affections,
or your hands, could stand to stay in one place.
i've heard that love, is a losing hand,
and i imagine its partner, dry & cracked -
aching, reaching, grasping, empty -
desperately seeking to be filled with any kind
of warmth or wholeness, only to be met,
instead, by astounding disappointment
that reverberates and permeates unapologetically
beneath the surface of weathered skin,
similar to that which covered your back, as we laid
in the trunk of your station wagon in the mid-december darkness.
love is designed as a fate resigned,
but i knew not what my future held.
i did not know that it was possible, for
such a tangible pain to exist inside my ribcage,
but i swear you pretended not to hear my heart shatter
from all those miles and miles and miles away.
so i envisioned the oceans inside of your irises fading to gray,
and i forced myself to ignore the lack of air in my lungs,
as i spat out, "it's fine." promising myself i'd never call you again.
unbeknownst to you, you'd just taught me how to play the game.
- m.f
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 5:23 PM UTC
Lady adjacent waiter,
ruler of the medulla,
give me a certain angle
that'll make her want to maneuver,
make her want to consider
in the absence of his figure,
that maybe not the whole gender
is full of secret agendas,
with her left over right leg,
glass in her right hand,
a tribute to her innocence
ever since she walked in,
assembled it's, white wine
Krispy Kreme eyes,
glazed look,
lips glossed like her oil thighs,
it's finally off time
her sorority cross line,
it's happy hour,
she wasn't,
his whole crime has been a cover up
since she wants him,
this whole scene has been taped off
by her girlfriends,
it's often I see it,
alcoholic rehab,
a culprit — a demon
making contracts with my open tab,
broken bad in the bathroom,
clad woman,
For all the attention
such good first impressions,
but not you,
I feel a different aura,
I feel I'll get exposed
so I call a different offense,
Semper Fi
within my eyes
this energy —
I quiet the restaurant,
Can you hear me?
Proceed to throwing signals
Tom Brady couldn't throw,
the ball's in my court so I'm finally on the move,
crushing on you while the sky undresses,
you catch a glimpse
as the clouds bare witness,
Excuse me Miss Unfortunate,
I know I'm at a disadvantage
but I had to call it
head or tails
I'm still offering,
a chance to be your man? No
a chance to be your author?
a chance to be your narrator now or later
call me,
a chance to say “there she is”
her piercing eyes, fixes her finger on my lips
be quiet, “I saw this in a movie once”
she told me as I spy and I grab onto her truths,
excuse me thats selfish, pardon me
apart of me just wants to see that movie,
a father daughter dance,
a chance to be your groupie,
a chance to see that smile
that you flashed
like a lunar star,
meteor crash
and its back to reality,
eye connection broken
and it’s back to the irony,
a word barely spoken
and I’m back to asking:
Check Please.
Sep 6, 2023
Sep 6, 2023 at 3:12 PM UTC
The girl with vintage dresses and flowers in her hair
is not as naive as you think she is.
With every toss of her satin-black locks,
she'll have you wrapped up around her finger.
The girl with red lipstick and flushed cheeks,
is not as shy as you think she is.
She's disguising her thoughts;
she's planning the entire universe in her head.
The girl with a different book each day in her hand,
is already writing her own
with memories of those who have scarred her
and transformed her into
the girl with vintage dresses and flowers in her hair
who now has the power to maneuver her way into your thoughts,
and **** you with nothing but a stare.
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 11:38 AM UTC
Floating through the depths of a soulless wonderland.
Memories fast fading from my mind.
I try to catch them in my hands but they rush through my fingers like sand.
Searching behind clouds and under dreams for something I can never find.
I weave new memories with strands of admitted love.
With dirtied hands I feel my way out of the darkness, with unexpected twists and bends.
Tipping back my head to look at the light dripping in from above.
I continue to maneuver out of the uninterrupted nightmares until forever ends.
Oct 15, 2012
Oct 15, 2012 at 10:56 PM UTC
And it’s groovy ****
The way my words maneuver it
A user but I won’t be used
By all the drugs I’m doing
Shiiitt
They talk abusive ****
Like they’re the one’s that using it
And usually I’d be busy on my timone and pumba bizz
Ness is what it’s all about
They’ll tell you anything to reassure the cash come out
To their hands
You gotta fight em with your bare hands
n realize a workaround to their plan
And on another note
I be kickin flows with a dopeness
Thinkin I’m the one
Yeah
I been thinking I’ve been chosen
Cold, I flow frozen
Shows, the vibe golden
Ghost the most smoke, I got casper choking
Actors be pulling mad guap and holding chart topping spots
Well they had a soul, sold it.
We don’t like change
Boy they’ve got us all brainless
You prolly changed this for a song about some ****
This ain’t it,
Re-spray it
Re-paint it
Rekindle
The vibe is alive, revive your minds sizzle
It is you, you are a god you are a ******* goddess
How the hell on earth could they stop us.
They cannot, we got this,
Positive is progress
We taking it *******
Don’t know where the top is
We Jam.
Like, this is your brian,
This is your brain on drugs
Well this my brain when I let it just
JAM
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 2:30 AM UTC
My eyes were beaming out,
onto the gloomy streets.
Fog was lurking in.
It adhered to my skin.
As the dew latched on,
after only seconds,
I slowly became damp.
Contributing to my silky skin.
Dusting my cheeks,
generating rosiness on my surface.
Glazing over my hair,
gluing each strand to another.
Coating my hands,
nipping at my fingertips
The haze in the back of my head,
It kept getting heavier.
Digging my fingernails into my head.
Tugging on each strand,
between my scalp and jagged fingernail.
Clawing as my nails trailed down my skull.
Blood dripping,
Streaming,
Creating tidal waves.
Fog was sprouting in my essence
The fog began to maneuver on me.
Blanketing over my body,
weighing down my soul,
overloading my carcass.
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 11:05 PM UTC
early morning
and the same sun rises over distant lands
and close-by skyscrapers
searing rusting infrastructure
with its harsh orange glow
spreading westward,
stretching over asphalt pathways
that connect, divide, structure, and destroy
alighting wearied faces of automobile drivers
careening through their morning commutes,
consuming caffeine like *******
while they deftly maneuver their 2,000 pounds of steel behind,
along, aside, and ahead of their neighbors
this,
is New Jersey,
where all roads lead to Newark
and there is nothing left but roads
approaching the colossus,
the cars cram and crawl into curb-side cases
narrowly avoiding calamitous collisions and condescending traffic cops
doors, fly open
and a mad flurry of arms and legs,
boxes and backpacks
come whirl-winding out onto the entryway
rushed goodbyes and abrupt adieus
color the palette of the doorway
dripping inside,
bleeding into the harshness of late businessmen
and screaming families.
Shoes Off.
Laptops Out.
and pray dearly that the TSA
doesn't shove their fingers inside of you
today.
arms up, legs spread
exposed to the imperceptible energy of American exceptionalism
the magnetic arm swings,
impregnating its subjects with the Joy of Fear
and the awe of empire
swings again,
and releases the hapless passenger from its total control
Through.
Checked.
Complete.
Pass Go, collect $200.
and into the international installation itself.
Enjoy your flight.
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 12:36 PM UTC
The crystal was perfectly aligned.
It exposed an image of the day I left seamlessly.
But it also echoed the future,
the design of tomorrow.
I wouldn’t follow my wildest dreams,
but I couldn’t say the misuse was improbable.
To the next phase in my elegant maneuver,
I gather the strength from my abysmal insides.
Wide open were the gates of hell.
I withheld.
Then continued,
as the outline of forever,
forever guided me.
Time was traveled.
And as passing eras bettered my intellectual design,
I redefined the reality of Sir Hawkins.
Time travel.
So true.
My speed was increasing,
as was my very corpus.
*And as it did,
so I transcended.*
Amended such as our legitimate antiquity
of the dickity desire.
The feeling of an outwordly choir
singing you to sleep while injecting you
with futuristic methyl-amphetamines.
I dreamt of better things,
but too late.
For I've descended into tomorrow,
and the decisions of the borrowed souls
will cease to follow.
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 4:22 AM UTC
A huge centipede crawls across the floor
He is black
and his legs are orange.
He is enormous
12 inches
Maybe more
And he rears back and attacks the feet of the passers-by
And they smile and reach down and pat him.
They smile.
And he bites their hands.
Their hands swell up around the two deep punctures,
which are swollen up over, the only sign left being two tiny oozing wrinkles.
The purple hands are polka dotted with yellow and dying veins.
They admire the plethora of color that is now their hand.
From the pain they lust for more and more pain and more and more pain.
They rise from their overstuffed red sofas to the middle of the floor and trade blows.
A girl of twenty with black curly locks falls to the ground with a wet thud
and summons the centipede who bites her in the cheek, piercing the paper thin flesh.
He gets a strong hold on her face and drags her across the floor.
She giggles in delight!
The centipede rips her limb from limb and
She giggles in delight!
Another wet thud.
She had a puffy purple companion in a moment as the centipede drags to her a young man of twenty-one.
Fate!
Their lips meet
and their saliva, thick and curdled mixes.
They giggle in delight!
As the centipede rips them limb from limb.
You look like you're losing weight!
The centipede is finding it.
He eats all but their skulls,
shining in a thin layer of blood,
picked clean of flesh
Locked in a sweet embrace of phantom lips
Until a pugilist twitches his leg in an awkward defensive maneuver and sends the girl's skull spinning across the floor
until it hits against a white wall with a crack
and it splits.
Party-goers begin to trip over the centipede.
And with every wet thud on the floor
another skull is left to be an obstacle for fluid movement.
The centipede has to coil up to be able to fit in the room.
And soon there is one pugilist left
And he scratches the centipede's shiny black metallic and spackled red back with a mangled mass of knuckle
and yellow poisoned veins.
The centipede rears back
But falls back on itself out of its own sheer weight
and its back snaps,
spraying the finalist with a mix of entrails of bug and human kind.
Dec 28, 2009
Dec 28, 2009 at 9:45 PM UTC
we start out in the middle of a spider's web, where doors surround us that lead
to grassy roads and rocky roads, difficult to maneuver through, but i've walked
on burning coals and left my fingers bleeding from scratching at your door like
a dog abandoned in the winter frost, because i felt more secure with the honors
of you destroying my house built out of marshmellows and toothpicks, and i
don't want you half empty or half full, i want you coloring inside and outside
the lines overflowing the spaces of my heart you occupied and called home,
but i'm responsible for raining on your parade and shattering your soul, but
even i know all these ways of binding you to myself with glue, duct tape, stitches,
gum, staples, paperclips, knots, can't keep under wraps for long, so i will let my
clouds swell with compassion you couldn't understand because you're the flashlight
in my haunted forest, shining a light on any ghosts that seem damaging to myself
because you've always been there to guide me back home and keep me from falling
from grace headfirst, but mother nature decides what sickening plot twist will destroy
us, and you know i can't control the disgusting weather but i wish i could.
- kra
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 9:48 PM UTC
The sky transformed in a matter of seconds
From a bright powder blue
To a sickly gray that reminded me of my darkest days.
The teardrops from the sky came trickling down
bit by bit
Slowly picking up speed
As I could hear the pitter patter on the window sills.
I walked over to my window to watch the show.
To watch the raindrops maneuver its way
past the nooks and crannies of the trees
and soak up into the ground.
I noticed something odd.
Right outside my window, lied a spider web.
A huge one, about two feet in diameter
And in the center, sat a beautiful maroon colored spider, curled into a ball to protect itself from the penetrating water droplets.
The web had to be one of the most
beautiful creations I'd ever seen.
How could something so minuscule
Create such a wonderful piece of art all on its own?
But as I was looking at this web
I was watching something devastating.
All of the spider's hard work
Was being battered by the rain.
The web was shaking violently back and forth.
Surprisingly, it was remaining mostly intact.
Unlike the fragile spider,
Clinging onto the strings of its creation for dear life.
The rain continued beating down
As I stood there admiring the web's strength.
The web was withstanding everything the storm threw it's way.
But its soul, the creator, didn't seem strong enough to.
The storm faded away.
The web, a little beaten down,
managed to stay strong enough to survive.
The spider, however, did not.
This reminds me of myself, you know.
Beaten down with words, mockeries
Beaten down by my past
My memories
I keep my outer shell perfectly intact
So that no one knows what is really going on inside me.
When in reality, my soul is dying.
My depths are shallowing, just like the spider.
I am not the only one like this.
I was oblivious to this fact
Until I watched this spider
Take his last breath before drowning.
Why couldn't the spider be as strong as its outer shell?
Why can't I be as strong
as I make myself out to be?
Maybe I'll find out one day.
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 10:41 PM UTC
"My first attempt in aerobatics"
The trainee pilot, a petite girl softly replies.
As the single engine trainer aircraft attempts a daring loop,
my perplexed eyes see ground below races upwards!
No time now for anything, but to enjoy the fruit of karma.
Sep 29, 2012
Sep 29, 2012 at 3:04 PM UTC
I'm not going to lie, I wish I was smoother
I wish I could maneuver my hands over her body to soothe her and use my words to woo her
But sadly I'm just another shy loser
An introverted introvert introspectively interested in what exactly the thing in her chest cavity is
A pessimist would say a broken heart turned winter cold
An optimist would say a heart more valuable than gold
A realist would say the main ***** that lets humans survive
but I would say its a home and where her love strives
and amazingly its three stories high with a fresh cut lawn and flowers reaching toward the sky
painted bright white like the fire burning inside mine but somehow I'm still alive
You see it's sad but its funny my house has all fallen down
A girl tried to spark a flame but burned me from the inside out
So I cough up these dark smoke clouds from my charred lungs
While I trip over words from my swollen tongue that was once stung by the bumblebee of love
So I hide from the flame in a bathtub full of shyness
because you can't see but behind this image of a nice smile and dark green eyes
lies a guy who's confidence was shot down and slowly but surely died
And believe me I tried I tired to dig the body up but I got about 3 feet deep
before I grew tired and crawled back into her sheets
Its like every step forward and there's a bear trap but I swear I'll never turn back
Because its love it makes you dumb its love it makes you so stupid
and I'm not sure if there's a God but I'm sure as hell there is a Cupid
I'll be whatever you want me to be just tell me and I'll do it
You probably don't like me very much I said hello and I blew it
Aug 13, 2013
Aug 13, 2013 at 2:40 PM UTC
The day becomes electric,
as billowing storm clouds grow
and race relentlessly
toward shore.
We scatter hither and yon
awaiting the rain to fall
and a baby continues to cry
once more.
the sun blasts through in anger.
slashing rays penetrating
and Lenny Kravitz playing
on 104.
We watch in dense anticipation
while seagulls maneuver overhead
and no one quite knows
what’s in store.
Sep 23, 2010
Sep 23, 2010 at 5:18 AM UTC
I hate to break it to you but heroes like Superman, and Batman, and Spiderman don’t actually exist.
But that doesn’t mean there aren’t heroes in this world, they just aren’t in capes and spandex. They can’t fly or shoot lasers from their eyes. They can’t lift a car with one finger and they aren’t affected by kyptonite. These heroes are people you pass every day, you may speak to them, and you may not. But they are there.
The 18 year old kid who takes care of his brother when his parents leave and decide not to come back he is a hero.
The 9 year old boy who saved his friend by pulling him out of an icy lake, is a hero
The mother that decides to leave her husband and take her kid with her when he starts hitting them, she is a hero.
Those who stand up for what they believe in, are heroes
The little girl who used the Heimlich maneuver (which she saw on a disney channel show by the way, see disney can teach us useful skills) to save the life of her 1st grade classmate who was choking on an apple, is a hero
Every friend that will drive to your house at 3 am because you are home alone and you are scared of what you might do if you are alone much longer. Every friend that tells you that everything will be alright, and that you may be ******* up, but that doesn’t mean that you will always be that way, friends that remind you things can and will get better. Are all heroes.
The woman who caught a baby that fell out a window is a hero.
The firefighter who risked everything to save a little girl or little boy is a hero.
The men and women in blue are heroes... Or they are when they aren’t shooting innocent people...
Or the man who broke his neck and had to give up the career he had done his whole life, but then turned what could have been a devastating change into an opportunity to follow his dream and is now happier than ever because he realizes that life is too short and can end too quickly to be unhappy, and now he is one of the strongest, funniest, most joyful person I’ve ever met. He is a hero.
Or the woman who went back to school after her divorce and now is happy and able to not only support her self but also her family.
These people are real life true heroes, not some made up ******** with super powers. Because you don’t need to be able to fly or see through walls to be a hero.
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 10:07 AM UTC