Is there life after death? Is there life after life. Living in a world that’s haunted with ghosts and blamed by sheep. A shelter skelter that’s always been around and will always continue to stay unique and true to itself. A burden that bears itself, not knowing that the cross was a function of its society. Happier people with smaller crosses, and sadder people hanging large ones from their steeples. Why is that society leaves behind the weak and punishes the poor as though they’re hard working procrastinators that like easy fixes and quick tricks. We’re all lazy. We don’t want to do shit we don’t like.
It is unfair that that being a poor man is like being a homeless person with fingerless gloves and toothless grins. They have nothing but they’re alive. They’re alive in the sense that they choose to continue living in poverty, because they think that they can improve their surroundings and have a purpose in life. The poorer they come, the richer they leave? Makes no sense if you ask the sane, but what is sanity to begin with? A dream or a death wish? A path or a cup of hot cocoa on a Sunday morning? Its all gibberish. We need to help those that need it, for they’ll always stay numb on the inside and won’t know what hit them the next day. We’ll lose the ones we love, the strangers that stand in the rain holding up signs and helping us be who we are.
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