We can be in as many places as we so desire in any format. Surprisingly it’s the ‘vindictive’ that ‘often’ deem transparency. For they’re scared. Fearing colourfulness, freedom and craft surpassing their own ‘vindictive’ appeal of ‘let’s be them.’ Or in the mud dwellers case, ‘let’s be that.’
Watch you don’t fall into the pages of the pit of your own stomach origami. It’ll eat you alive. (Perhaps it already is?)
You know … munching you up from the inside out – like a spritely bug on a grainy salad leaf, you forgot to wash. You were too busy planning the next chapter to focus on the plate – now it’s eating you back.
Have you no idea the carnage your deeds have trailed? You’ve more in common with little creepy things than you can ever comprehend. You utterly sadistic fool.
I never knew until ‘I did’ … you’re not in your senior years – as defined by birth. It’s as though you’re a spoilt minor stuck in a pool of miss-carried frogspawn. The strange thing is … you ‘virtually’ enjoy it? A mirror of your own dissatisfaction. A perpetual coward afraid to walk free – stuck. TUT!
Cash won’t bail you out. It’s all just a loan from the darkness – your darkness – you make their darkness. You are darkness hiding behind the obvious. You wouldn’t dare otherwise, would you!
You’d be wise to grow up (come forward) and face the land from the murky depths of your troubled mind. What right do you hold to meddle with innocents. Be ashamed. Take debt for your ill intentions.
You went out your way to meddle and now look whose the victim. It’s certainly not me. I come from love.
Til then, I send you to spin in the mud you so deviously crafted with the filth from your own garbaged existence.
I don’t know how you rest at night with your ‘sly’ history of intervention.
Make your own business worth representation and stay away from the ‘righteous’ path of others. You’re not wanted here – you tragic imbecile. You’re out your depth in a tarnished bog of poison that you’ve so shambolically crafted.
Be fearful, for I can tell the truth! Love can be hard, relentless and forever forgiving yet a memory that never resides.
Quietly Quirky ©