Via Vision

Thoughts flow like a river and here is the place in which the river becomes a waterfall.

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

The Child is dead

I used to cry a lot.

Words used to hurt me.

People used to hurt me.

I used to think that the world was full of nothing but joy.

That blue skies and puffy clouds were my daily greeting.

That the fresh air would be the air I will breathe for life.

Even on the rainy days the sweet smell of rain was bliss.

But now, I am adult.


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