busy keeping up with the fast-paced yesterday, today and tomorrow. inactive online because of the other wonders of internet prone to sickness, physically, mentally and virtually.
If it were the only time left would I wonder why humans turn red? Mentioned something about numbers till the very end like bullets through my head. Like paper if you scribble, like paper if you write. That’s the difference. Stared once, here comes the second. Still and motionless, you remain. Like a dead soul I’ve been talking to, like questioning is forbidden. Behind those pure eyes are nothing but irresponsibility, stamped all over the mind and heart, concealed by ranks and undeserving respect. Fingers can’t catch water you’re throwing, stupid enough to be taught that way, that way you are. Those unfashionably mind of yours work in different way than a kind heart would treat; kind hearts have incredible minds. Yours are not equivalent, never will it be. Having a certain power, cutting people out, killing them, I say murder. I say ravage, angst, brutal is what you created within others. We are slaves to this unfortunate function. Full of anger as we are, speechless we remain. Speechless I remain. Behaviour as uncivilised as you, who should know better than others. I have lost, and will always, lose respect of what I have always thought of a better future waiting, the one you shaped out, and than betrayed me, and a lot more people.
busy keeping up with the fast-paced yesterday, today and tomorrow.
