Friday, November 3, 2017
Reflections of his daughter and mate
"Reflections of his daughter and mate"
Why do you always teach me Dad? To punch that swinging bag? To work on cars? To cuss? And to grow up to be a tough lady? And you tell me I have an Advocate. A little bird that will always fight for me, if I stay in God's Graces. You cry when I get on the bus, and when I come home you teach me how to fight.
The world is cruel. They're in our houses. They're our best friends. Plotting. And this is not paranoia, but a true fact. Everyone is out to have the upper hand. To wear the best clothes. To defile the prettiest girls. I want you to be tough. Don't ever be a victim.
But you're not like that Dad. Why?
Most poor people aren't. The dirt poor only have one treasure, and that's what's in their heart. A home, where they'll always be safe. Way out in the country. Dogs. A flagpole with an angel on guard. Water. Canned food. Vitamins. And beer.
Dad, you can't talk to your daughter about beer.
No. But one day, you can have one with your mother.
Where's Mom?
Off, trying to save this world. She's always trying to save this world, and I want you to be just like her.
Thursday, November 2, 2017
US
"US"
There are many of you, maybe me, maybe not, that experience negativity and hatred on every occasion; specifically, people make you the monkey, rattle your cage, when in fact--they're the monkeys!
That's why they gawk at you when you walk and talk. They know you are not like them; indeed, your light shines brighter, and it is their job to induce lies into your sub-conscious, make you doubt yourselves, when they're the ones with doubt, because they are not spirit and blood.
They turn you down for promotion, when you're the best. Or they promote you; next, use you--it's all Donkey Kong for them. Even when you've rescued a child from falling off a cliff, they call you a bad person, because the child's destiny was to fall off the cliff.
We asked for this. We gotta make the best of it. Some of you know, many. Some of you don't.
Some of them know, some of them don't. It's all too impossible. That's what they want you to believe. You're just a carnival act. A freak. And they throw everything they have at you. Wonder what happens when it all goes back to them, and they are unmasked. They're uglier than even you imagined. Sometimes beauty is born on the inside, and grows outward. Sometimes not. Sometimes beauty is a boy in a wheelchair, always with a look of triumph on his face, though his parents dismissed him. Even in your own house is there turmoil. It is true, He came not to bring peace, but a sword.
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