Spreads them.
I feel
Like I am watching
Entire ships burn,
Just standing back,
And letting Him be.
He isn't nice.
Nothing....
About it...
That seems to be...
Nice.
I start picking the eggshells off the ground;
What's wrong with the truth and feelings anyhow? Seems to me, the people who love me the most, don't have to deal with negative feedback...
Pretty much because they are just awesome; loving, kind, sincere, respectful, tolerable, AND tolerating, slightly liberal to any degree of conservative...
I pick up the eggshells.
There are eggshells
Where my pen tries to paint her stories;
Eggshells.
And I have been blessed to see lately,
That yes...
Any writer, many indeed...
Share the same fate of crucifixion...
For we tell...
Oh yes, we tell...
Many a things, many a ways, that will upset many, oh many, a folk.
Watching, processing,
Words coming to.
Then they seem surprised,
After having made some cunning remark,
Or sly near-to-invisible slander...
That YOU!
Yes YOU! Would have an opinion.
Speak to a writer.
At your own risk.
For you may find,
There is so much,
We are just as cleverly,
Willing to Mirror
Back to you!
Converse...
At your own
Risk!
No comments:
Post a Comment