Requiem For The Children | 12.24.12
Tap into my new sphere, where pieces of my body hang listlessly on the walls for the analysis of an anatomy full of blood and yearning. I employ red, manager of the hue’s occupation, as my messenger of expression or distortion, because we all know feelings are only contracts of figures all but shaped or molded together. To what extent did I lose you? In the above description or in the immensely deep pleasure, you find in both understanding me in order to stay and marvel at the blessings that you claim as torture or indifference. You know what this is, but do I know. I know that I am granted; the very few who have been given the talent, but also the tongue and mind to cultivate the gift that not only uplifts but highlights the character I am. Part growth…and others in development but we know what’s up, so why don’t you?