You spend much of your life focusing on what is the purpose? The purpose of us living to struggle, the purpose of us living to die, the purpose of us growing to love and be hurt by the ones we love. Its a slow process to grasp, some of us find it early, others a little late, and most never. I am an artist that believes encouragement should be derived from his path and words. People need to be patted on the back, and its not about babying them, its about acknowledgement of their achievements. Acknowledging someone can go a long way, even if it isn't recognized by the naked eye it's self. Its food for your confidence, food for you ego that the world tears down mostly everyday. So I use to ask myself as i struggle with various issues, whether it be bad habits, blowing through money, or over drinking, I began asking myself whats my purpose? What the hell am i putting myself through all the rhetoric for, I do not have to care for anyone. I began to throw off the FTW vibe at everyone. Just blatantly mad about everything, and mad at everyone. Why be mad though, it is so much i will miss that i shouldn't miss. I got people disappointed in me cause I aint what they wanted to be, and many of us grow up doing the same. It's crazy the lack of support that we get especially family. So im hungry, not in the literal sense, in the metaphorical sense that I am missing something. Missing the risk, missing the achievement. As I see it, you can give up on me, but I will never give up on me. I will never give up on no one around me. Point is, what others want I will never think out. What i envision is not planned, but before I even knew it was "Well Thought Out".............................................................
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It is said that the heart can not be justified to it's actions, but only to it's nature. The nature is has grown accustom to. The Nature accredited to how it is loved and cared for. It is said that this heart on it's loneliest moments can be found at Broken Hearts Corner. The corner where it begins it's destruction, the same destruction that creates Cold Mornings. Those cold drops that we feel amongst our skin on those misty mornings aren't of rain from the heavens, but tears from the broken hearts that ravage the earth trying to find joy. Those Rain Drops Never cease the pain we feel. They just prolong the emotional state in which something stupid occurs and as it echoes through the body I Be Dreaming, dreaming of happiness, we continue to fall screaming can you Hear Me. But as we fall and fall, we find slight hope as our hearts beg the feeling to Wait 4 Me. The thrill of the moment we just seem to Love It. Loving the physical detailing, the touching, the love for the night. Soon we find out shes nothing more that a Party Girl, with normal ambition to get knocked and take it all, and live the ride. So what we once thought was, brings us back to the hour, the hour, the hour of up and down. The Twerk Hour. So as she does/ he does their thing you rush home from your polly movement to leave your Rotten Gift Bag. May they accept the hatred built up over time, the same hatred that brought upon the Date of Depression. So as that bright, caring red heart endures all of the pain, the shock, and disbelief it turns numb, and cold. It becomes Heartless, it becomes a case of a Hopeless Romantic. As that individual stares into Mirrors of Pain. Over the wild of the night we hear the houls toward the moon, of the heartless, the cold, the souls lost in love and life.......................................
