I see how the majority lives. Kids dying in the streets, devastation runs amok, earth’s temperatures off-key, disaster abounds, the homeless discarded, the invisible caged, wailing migrants. I don’t want to be part of the blind percent. I’m awake with a heavy heart. Maybe I should take a happy pill, or drink the cool aid and blur the ugly vision. I will not. I refuse to sugar coat the words
Young girl filled with big dreams it’s fine to carry on, all grown even when you cannot do it alone. There will be others just like you who’ve survived the awkward teenager years, pimples, bruises and broken hearts. They’ll care enough to remind you how perfectly precious you are. It’s okay to fall or fuck up; when you’re doing your best. Life will get harder than you can manage, but
I had the craziest dream. Sweet Gardenia blossoms grew immense enveloping firestorms and chaos, masquerading all traces of ash and burn. The intoxicating scent of sweet perfume permeated the clean air, creating nursery rows of safety bubble greenhouses. A young girl’s innocence remained pure and virtuous. Flowering freedom rained dewdrops of kindness. There were no guns, no mass graves, no starvation, no rape, no death. No dead children. No hate.
You don’t have to like my politics or my opinions Even my race, gender, social status, mental health That’s fine by me All I ask is that if my views on the world, my liberal “everyone should be treated equal” views Leave your stomach sour, pause before you judge me My artistic ideals might be so very different from yours Could you try to stay open minded, not bitter or
“I am learning to let go of who and what no longer fits, and suddenly like magic I’m surrounded by good, caring people. I am, I am learning.” J Cioffa