I saw a hundred sad souls today. Blank stare, blistered,
beaten. All conversation and social interaction cease to
exist caused by exhaustion and depression. What are we
doing with ourselves? I'll see another hundred sad souls
tomorrow, trying to figure out how they got to this point
in life. The last good day is not in recent memory. For
those who said f*ck it- I quit, they now occupy street
corners, dark allies, and cardboard boxes asking for
kindness. Receiving kicks in the face. Life, liberty, and
the pursuit of happiness failed these sad souls.
Something kept close, growing, living, knowing what can't
go away. What has been found? Years of holding in my
simple life. To feel this world dying within itself, as
it falls to its knees as we die our kids to see a dead
world. We kill for them as we die.