handing out seeds of peace with pigeon droppings?
My habitat for humanity is a simple removal of self from all that encompass my travels. It is mighty white of me to go about being part of a mission. A group of mediocre upper crust elitist that see injustices in such thing as, no kill shelters and tennis lessons only available to the rich. In Virginia, with the climate so much like New Hampshire, nothing has really changed for me, however. I cannot pronounce my lack of connection to others enough. I have no blood, albeit, metaphysical or spiritual or genetic. I am the chameleon that clings to the pretty girls because Mummy liked the way they looked in boarding school. I am the ever changing street light that believes in sororities, Frat’s and beyond expensive fancy beer.
I had never ever seen the likes of such items as; fried chicken, beat up Chevy trucks, small bank accounts, until this year.
I am not the Zoey’s of this world. I am not the Kate’s. I am the girl next door you read about online. The one who took one too many hits to the ego and one too little trips to the therapist and in the end, notices that the love you get is only proportionate to the love you give.I am indeed strange.
People are strange when you’re a stranger
Faces look ugly when you’re alone
Women seem wicked when you’re unwanted
Streets are uneven when you’re down
When you’re strange
Faces come out of the rain
When you’re strange
No one remembers your name
People are strange when you’re a stranger
Faces look ugly when you’re alone
Women seem wicked when you’re unwanted
Streets are uneven when you’re down
When you’re strange
Faces come out of the rain
When you’re strange
No one remembers your name
- bias and bigotry thickened by blood
The odd thing about being Ambien not really full of Grace; I relish in the shadows of others. I live off the light they cast. I belong to the darkness and I have no etch in my profile what so ever!
