Love

She goes around warming peoples hearts, each heart, she sets afire a blaze that will last…. She creates examples of what it is to be human – to love, and be caring – they pass on her teaching’s.  
She’s the type that will sacrifice an hour of work for a 2 min reaction of happiness- she knows what its like to have nothing, yet have everything. So selfless, it shakes the greed out of the chilliest of men.

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The True Ruler.

there were sheep, wolves, pigs, and velvet ropes. The instructor, was often smiling with a large and antagonizing smile. He reeked of gin and an odour, that triggered the nostrils to cease to breath, he smelt of success, and achievement. His ego was large. His muscles tiny. he began to stumble – over the time of the games… He teased each category. made them maneuver to a beat of his own violin, his red and well strung piece of musical sadness. His tone was aggressive and be-lilting, his hands were tightening as the animals were slow at progressing through the maze. He began to get angry… annoyed at humanity.… He wanted more, he wanted better… he wanted perfection… As the days progressed the being’s would lose their individuality, their dignity, their balls. And each day, this pig, this ruler, would strengthen his games, intensify their work… All while he sat above and grinned with pleasure, his alcoholic lips, lick his lips

he believes in conformity, and relentlessly begins to achieve it – Throughout our society… this man is strong, and ever-so powerful, and he won’t stop… he cannot stop… this world is his for the taking. And each category of animal is for his eating, he chows souls for breakfast, hearts for lunch, and tears for dinner. He sings an awfully dark tune in the morning, that frightens each animal, he sings it without heart and only knows the horrid words, he only understands ruthlessness and betrayal… He pawns each animal, he maneuvers them to stay dedicated, and keep up the rhythm. he yells loudly when they step out-of-line… and he strengthens their mind with his destructive words. And these words grip the soul and bring it down to his level, he dines with the devil, he goes to the games with hitlers, and sparks up a cigarette with Stollen. Drinks his liquid with the Masons.

Creative: The Troops Around The Heart

My heart was wrapped within tin foil and was ever expanding, and heating with ease…. now it isn’t captive once more, it’s freshly escaped and on it’s own… the warmth is leaving, the beauty within is disappearing. It’s free to be where it wants, with who it wants… but still, it thinks of her, and the greatness it once felt under her authority. It wanders the land, with selflessness and warmth… but the warmth cannot be returned, can’t be restrained for long. i had another temptress, another great girl, that only wanted what she could take, rather than me. I’m broken and guarded once more. I wanted her within this life, she wanted temporary satisfaction and currencies to better her life… while bringing my being down quite drastically, while lifting the ego. I feel used and taken for granted once more. around my heart are troops stationed within a watch-tower surrounding the premise with strength and hostility…. never letting another around once more…. my heart beats a sweet song of all that it’s encountered… let in, and taken apart. Set on fire, and then stomped on… because my heart is a game to most, another treasure discarded in the sand, never to be held for the right reasons again.

My Choice

The days are passing quickly, the trees are leafing well…  Where there was snow and chilling, there’s now, flowers, the ice has turned to a river, the sun begins to show earlier… my emotions seem constant and better than before… I look in the mirror and my reflection begins to feel like my own… my actions feel myself, I look to God, but never thank him, because to me, it feels like he’s given the worse, and he’s tested me… so i blame myself, because at the end of the day we have free-will, we have choices and our actions are often our own… when i had nobody to look to, to turn to, i saw God hovering above me and making my days worse, he often felt devilish… to give him what i earned, isn’t me. I gave him enough praise… As i walk my path i see all those who used and abused me, they’re grinning when they should be sympathetic, but that’s not them. they’re heavenly teachers. The devils minions… They’re hardened and soulless, because to them i’m a piece to be moved, a body they want to cut-off. To them i’m nothing, but to myself I’m my greatest teacher, my only God. And that’s the way it should feel and be, because when we start giving our accomplishments over to anyone, then we’re supporting something we can’t see, and subjecting ourself to insecure patterns, words, character.