They say when death nears, your priorities change; so with my experience with that, I have a question: What is your hope in the face of death?
I see a lot of people live on hope, but it’s truly a hopelessness because the hope never manifests to become true: “They just don’t believe in miracles!”
I live with the homeless, I play in the dirties playground populated with bodies whose souls has slipped through the cracks of communities and end up stripped of all essence. What you see in me, or what you see in you is all that’s left after the soul has been tested, degraded, mis-lead, lied to , forgotten, slandered, abused, neglected, manipulated, and looked down upon. And what hurts the most is: “I don’t even know how to cry.” All of my tears have been handcuffed years ago, so don’t act like you don’t feel my pain in this diabolical scheme of soul-snatchin. So be prepared for sacrifice, it builds character. My soul always tells me that, and, plus deep inside I know, if I wasn’t built for this I’d be dead by now.
