|They need a chance.
||[Dec. 28th, 2013|09:59 am]
Born, their umbilical cord strangling them from the beginning.|
Born substances unknown augmenting their being.
They need a chance, they need a breath.
Even breathing is hard as it is suppressed by the very world that would call us forth, from nothing to something.
Care about the leafs falling from trees, and the petals falling from flowers.
Short too short or too long for the pain.
Finding ways to ease the pain.
Down here we have real problems.
The flesh falling from our bones as we scrape the last dance.
The last ounce of hope as we end.
The short walk off a tall cliff.
Anxiety and pain wrack us until our nerves kill us as we vomit for the very last time.
Real pain of having to leave our children.
Real pain of war, and toil.
This life's potential so beautiful, but we need a chance.
We need hope.