Seeds. (By: Chris Hathaway)

I murdered the raven and banished the canary. lies for some is like weight to be carried while truth like hatchets are meant to be buried. try to be there for them or try being selfish, the results are varied. I’ll be damned to be my parents, divorced in their hearts but still fucking married. I want the world to have better manners, and quit while it’s behind. from war to ailing kids to poverty, I’m starting to lose my mind. racing through the dark like bats going blind, I take the time to write just what the I feel inside. for the off chance, the slight chance that you’ll feel something. a tug, a pull, a sever of your heartstring. but you are just like me, and we are just feeling. that’s all humans do is eat sleep and feel everything. pain. trauma. the disappointment of our momma. the grief, the sickness, the defeat. the joy, the laughter, the feeling of feeling complete. the latter leaves the former feeling obsolete. to gain it all you must take the fall and run while others crawl, give it your all to cheat. and if by the end of your road your dreams aren’t fulfilled at least you showed passion. which is missing from this world in a major way like gratitude and compassion. but who am I to decide what this world needs? no one important, I’m just planting my seeds.

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