I write to ignite frightened minds and remind them of the might they might be inclined to find inside the confines of life interwined with divine vibes and sublime rhymes propeling lives to rise and thrive. I write because words are magic and sentences are spells, and the thought of underutilizing ourselves is tragic so I feel frantic to go savage and ring some chilling bells. I write because letters are elements, words are molecules, and paragraphs are the means to create worlds forming books upon shelves. I write because I can.

Understand?

And so this is Christmas

But still the shells fly

Machine guns still rattling

Though no-one's sure why.

Not over by Christmas

We clamoured to go

But still we are fighting

For what? We don't know

Friends falling and dying

In squalor and pain

It's not what they told us

Its all death and rain

Remember us fondly

Lest others forget

The war to end all wars.

Did that happen yet?

Remember the fallen

What the poppy is for

For respecting the dead

Not respecting the war.

Lest We Forget.

I know the story, everyone knows the story. Life is all black and white until you meet your soulmate then and only then do you get to see color. I never really understood what people were describing, after all I have no context, I do think that it sounds pretty great though. I decided young that I was going to seek them out, that person who would bring color and beauty to my life. That is why I attend every social event, weaving in and out among the crowd hoping, praying that our shoulders brush.

Tonight is different, I knew it the minute I walked into the concert. I could see just a slight difference in my vision. Something new, I'd never seen but instantly understood, color. The colors get more vibrant the closer I get to the one called my soul mate. I track them down, they're in a group about my age. One is staring around confused I smile at the realization the color had hit while they were drunk. I run to their side and grab their hand. I heard it makes the colors come faster if there is physical contact. It hits me like a brick, so beautiful I nearly burst into tears. I drop the hand I hold and run away before anyone realizes. I've got color now, just like I always wanted.

-Ray Bradbury

This quote is important to me because I personally use writing as an outlet for when life gets too hard or stressful or even too boring. It allows me to escape into a world of my own creation in my time of need. I think it's important for everyone to have some kind of world to escape into, some kind of happy place. Desite the light of life, the real world can easily became an endless repetitive circle of work, school, and misery just by its very nature. Being forced to stay in that state of mind, being forced to constantly focus on and relive all your problems, that's enough to destroy a person.

Some say that people that spend a lot of time in their heads are crazy.

I say, the truly insane people are the ones who don't.

“A pearl is a beautiful thing that is produced by an injured life. It is the tear [that results] from the injury of the oyster. The treasure of our being in this world is also produced by an injured life. If we had not been wounded, if we had not been injured, then we will not produce the pearl.”

~Steven Hoeller

Link for the story I wrote to accompany it here:

https://theprose.com/post/310871/story-for-a-challenge-but-too-long

A wedding ring falling,

Clanging against the wooden floor

The sound rings throughout the house

The room was empty,

Not a soul stirring

Yet, the wedding ring fell,

A sacred symbol of marriage

Brushed aside, as if it didn't mean

Anything

I wish I could know why,

What the motivation behind it was,

If there's a ghostly specter

Residing in our family home

But, I suppose, we'll never know

After all, the dead

Can only speak so loud

If bad poeple ran the world I speculate that pain and sickness

would not only be acceptable, but also cheap and easily accessable.

Value would be a concept defined by our cars and wallets.

Instead of respect and wisdom. Whats right would be defined by whether or not it makes money.

The gifted and differently abled would feel as if they are better off dead, and to be a hypocrite would be the only way to get ahead.

If bad people ran the world, I suppose people of peace would be forced to kill or die. And people of war would control which laws we are to abide by. Magic would be considered false. and love would always be hiding.

Drugs and alcohol would be the best way to be socializing. and to save a couple of dollars would be worth more than a life. As for coping, well that would be accomplished by lying.

If bad people ran the world. Well, i guess there's no need to worry about that. Just stay positive.

Emotions festering,

Filling my head

With morbid thoughts

And false lies

Internally panicking,

Anxiety brewing

Leaves my mind racing,

My brain a jumbled mess

A soul slowly dimming,

Its shine lost

To the cruel gears of time,

A merciless world

Breaking it down,

One trial at a time

Everyday, I fight to retain control,

I fight to remain myself