The letter meant to be what it is, is what it isn’t
The pitter patter, fitter flatter, matter of all.
No moment more real then a child’s belief in the gigantic dinosaurs
which lumber, limber , linger in the mind of child’s adult shell
he now digs through life hoping, prying, begging for a piece, a part, a place.
Each moment more fickle then a thousand senior citizens holding, grasping to the little money given,
Liven is not easy
not meant to be, so fight, tally forth through aristocracy and bull***t that clouds the vision of your controlled life.
Like a thick smog, blinders, finders, reminders of where you are and where you are not.
One hope for you, latch, attach, merge to another. Write what you can, while you can for you who you can. The dance gets harder, more complicated as each grain of sand makes its way through the tunnels of your life line until,
Finally it reaches the pile of broken dreams
What if ? why not ?
The letter that was meant to mean one thing, means something else
A thousand just like you, look back, look forward…they are all you.
They can do what you do, some of worse, but more better...
Your cursed, doomed, a unborn mouse sealed away frozen for the day that the tamed snake is hungry.
How sad is that, a snake with no fight, devouring a mouse with no hope…
Swing, spring, sing, leap into life
A zombie can do it, so can you.
Come back from the dead, devour all the information you can, break open the heads of those who contain it, take their thoughts, dreams , experiences, take it all.
Suck the source dry, fly, cry, live or die.
The letter meant as a goodbye, is really a warning to live.
To take, to break, to push , to shove, to hate and finally to love
She will be missed, for each treasured moment should be marked with a kiss
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