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A poem.... WOOBIE....Ask for a cause, fate weaves through. The fibers are not alawys fair , but lifes' linens are usually soiled on this side of the street. Irony and perspective tightly grip. Hand in hand devilishly pointing out how lucky I am to breath this air, move this hand , know these words. To posess the vision required to observe things I am so deeply moved by. Amazing movements mezmorize me. I am truly captivated, lost in reflection, Covered in hypocrisy, hidden. But how can you walk the path of the rightous? There are lies told to the virtious. Wait, what? Icons sprout for loss of direction. Lies and truths are alwasy subject to delays and changes. Only at a moments notice. Slippery? I have been told about the slope. On the whims of whos intentions should always be called into question. Your life, their reasons, their hands. Doesnt that make you feel better?
