I stand with my feet planted on the ground, with all of my weight pushing down.
The chaos around me will not knock me down. I feel the wind pushing against my chest and my body is wary from the lack of rest. But with my feet so firm I know I am blessed for I will not end up like all the rest.
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I wonder down this narrow path.
The sky's dark, gloomy with ought a a trace of light to be seen. The creatures that lurk in the night are all around. With every step I take my head us held high and my posture up right for any other way would be mistaken as weakness. The thought of stopping comes to mind as it has many times before, but still I push forward, still I move one. One foot infant of the other I feel like a wind up toy. I go through thee motion, but cant find a purpose. I know it sounds silly, a maid up myth, but maybe thats all I have left.
I look at the bird and what it represents, a sense of hope, peace and security. But like blowing on a dandy lion or wishing on a star I soon learn that this dream should be put to rest, but then why do I hold it so dear to my chest? |
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April 2016
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