But this has been my place for the passing months.
I observe the crystal ball before me.
I don't like what I see.
Is the fear of death more fearful than death itself?
A young woman got stuck in a car after a collision at the trunk road.
The late arrival of the paramedic diminished her chance for survival.
She fancies music a lot and writes about thirteen songs todate.
Putting hopes to cut her own album, she endured with the hopes that day will arrive when people are singing her tune. That the world will discover her music.
A collission on a Tuesday morning teared up everything in a second.
Her unspoken lyrics. Her song demos. Her passion. Her hopes.
Her fears. Her frustration. Her struggle. Her pain.
What's our worth at the end of the day?
Some people have good things fall easily into their laps, with or without the luck.
Some did their very best and be flat honest but hindrances are here to stay.
What's wrong?
What's the barometer to measure who, what and when they deserve good things to happen?
I don't want to answer this question.
I am unable to answer him, except with a blank, lost look on my face.
Should I be thankful I am still around or I am merely living on the shell without my essence?
No comments:
Post a Comment