Every heart beat. Both pain and honesty. Honestly I think mouths should be more active with the words on our soul. After all how do we really know? If only what we sowed left a trail.
Track back or move forward? The call isn’t always clear, the choice not always ours. The risk is for the taking. But is that a disaster in the making? The building of a person happens slowly over time. Though taking out the battery doesn’t actually stop time. Neither does writing silly rhymes.
Though those in the past have found it cathartic. I’d without it, this simple pass time, have cardiac arrest. What would it look like to set my heart on a shelf? Would anyone notice its absence? Would I miss the irregular sound of its skipping as I try to understand?
I guess you can’t live without more than one vital organ at a time—otherwise I would remove my mind. Is that kind? I’m a creature of a different kind. Alien—not quite—crazy maybe so. As long as “others think I’m crazy , but I have found a joy that will last.”
Last time I took a journey akin to this—well that ended badly. Lesson learned. Class dismissed.
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