The rain-wrecked breeze crawled along my skin and ripped through my hair
while whispering the monumental secrets of life in my ear
before moving on to greater things.
Wiping tears from my cheek, she does not read my thoughts.
She cannot,
Though she gives me empty cliché answers to my overarching wonderings.
Why does she move around my questions instead of penetrating them and shaking them to destruction?
Why does she move forward, not hesitating at my remembrances or waiting for instruction?
The cruel cycle of the world; she merely wishes me well on my journey.
Though now I hate her, how sometimes I wish I were she.
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Life is a series of unexpected sournesses coming from the most unlikely places. Our responsibility is how to respond and react to those happenings...
- Maverick
- I am not afraid to love, though I find it difficult to be loved. Love me anyway. I thrive on human touch, on theatre, on music, and those who perform it from their souls. This world is yours, these things are ours, and this day is mine.
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