The thoughts and how they flow!

I wear my emotions on my sleeve, some say that it's a bad thing. I fight to discover or find my inner strength, or maybe I am just a different being. I have lost myself a time or two, but each time, i've discovered something new. Something new about me, and who I am meant to be. There is a purpose for every experience, a purpose for every interaction. The purpose at times is not obvious. It sometimes hide and withers behind the scene. We rage and cry at the feeling of defeat. Defeat against our own demands, defeat against our ability to rise above. We will always learn, but we have to always remember to live. 


She was a spunky young girl, from what i'm told. I would have never imagined her being this old. She used to dance around as she cooked, her oldie's music didn't let me read my book. I miss the days when she would play, joke laugh and make my day. She would work out every day, "She was a looker" everyone would say. She would run around chasing us, getting all of us ready for the school bus. The rollers in her hair, she'd step outside with them, she didn't care. That cigarette polluting the air. I can remember the sleepless nights, the sibling fights. She hardly ate, all the food was on our plates. She made mistakes, she never denied. the day Grandma left she sat and cried. She asked for her forgiveness, she felt she hadn't done her best. She wanted peace as we laid her to rest. I see her now, and wonder how. She is older I understand, but she's young enough to take a stand. She uses a walker when she goes out, she's been scared since the last wipe out. The surgeries she's had, well I lost count. Her strength is fierce without a doubt. It's a drastic change one makes, when they are older they just count the days. You hope for eternal life, you hope to never see the light. Though it's hard to see, a future I am afraid awaits me. I enjoy that she is still around, we laugh and joke and try not to frown. Though there are times the frustration is real, we will never understand the smallest of pains she feels. 


The hate and all the chaos, too many innocent's gone. The news and all it's glory, fueling the fury. Pointing fingers of blame, actions that bring this country shame.  The divide is real, connection is really what we need to feel.  Only when we are under attack, do we ever have each other's back. We lose ourselves in being the victim, instead of enjoying all this freedom.  One day we will see the light, nothing is gained by a pointless fight.  The past has come back to haunt us, it's all about race people say.  Though the truth is we are not seeing the real issue, we should teach each other a better way.  Until then in this hell we will stay, should we just wait and see if it goes away?