Martyr

Writing

I know I’m flawed and not the most knowledgeable man, but I know people are harsh and rude. I’ll never understand everyone’s stories behind why they act the way they do or the reasons why they feel the need to be angry to impress anyone. Who am I to deny them that little enjoyment they find in their lives? Pick on me. Insult me. None of your words will ever hurt me as much as your past hurts you. What happens to the soul when the body refuses to harbor the pain the soul feels, I like to believe that the soul tries to find some peace within the chaos. I don’t know how everyone feels but I can try to relate to their troubles. I’ll try to help them through their pain and problems. I know what it’s like to suffer and to have no one there to hold you up when you timber over. I’ll save all of the falling trees and allow them to rest upon my weary back until they are strong enough to grow roots into the ground to grow into something beautiful. The truth is we all struggle with the same problems, yet we offer each other no solution to the problems we all face together yet so far apart. Paying each other back with tongue lashes that cut deeper than lacerations from the sharpest blade to the cold skin within a winter’s breeze. I spew out words of wisdom hoping you will cup your hands and drink them into your soul. My hopes failed.  I just hope you’ll remember that i was there.

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