From the Heart

From the Heart

A Story by Broken Hearted Faux

Write from the heart. Write whatever comes to you. Type it. Write it. Let it flow. Like a river flowing out of you, let the ink drip on the page. Let it paint an image. Let it think for you. Create. Imagine. Racing across fingertips and lines. Sentences. Words. Rhymes. Speak from the heart. From the mind. From the soul. Just speak through whatever speaks to you. Whatever comes? Let it flow. Let it run. Run a marathon. Run a racetrack. Beat Olympics. Like a Roman god. Burst through the inner walls. Break down writers block. Break down the barrier that holds you back.

Creativity. Think outside the box. Unique. One of a kind. You are you and only you. Only you can ignite the spark. The spark of insanity. The spark of interest. The spark of imagination. Rainbows. Cannons. Fire. Elements.

Everything bundled into one big ocean that balances the co existence of everything. Just like how the leaves fall. Every line falls into place in a story. A story that defies time and erases thoughts. Focus so intently at the problem at hand. The plot. The memories. The lies. The truths. The balance. Everything rides on balance.

Heroic pieces. Armor. Rusting. Falling. Ending. Hero. Damsel in distress. Both swirled down an endless river. Down a never ending battle. A battle of hatred. Of love. Of curiosity. Bloodshed and war. Graven stones of war names. Battle scars. War stories. Generation to generation. Passed down. From dance to mouth to song to the world. Country to country.

Everything connected with webs, tied around ones' souls. Every day. Every date. Every choice. Every hour. Every minute. Every breath. Closer to death. Every action like a domino. One mood affects another. And soon everyone is of one mind and one breath. All riding on a boat down a river.

A river of words. Of thoughts. Of pasts and presents. To a place with no time. No time. No past. No present. No future. No time. No hours. No days. No minutes. No time. No pain. No sorrow. No joy. No happiness. No time. Just a river. Flowing endlessly through time. As we do.

Work ourselves through day to day. Zombies. Hungry for money. Hungry for anything with pleasure. Hungry for worldly riches. Gospel is not what hungry Americans look for first. Sex. Money. Power. Riches. Cars. Women. Movie stars. Singers. Actors. Sports stars. Space. Oceans. Pasts. Futures. Science. We are distracted.

Lost to an unseen cause. We need donations. We need to reach out. Reach out to those in need. Those without homes. Without food. Without clean water. Those unfortunate. With unfortunate losses and misjudges. Those born without a chance like us in America. Those families shown no love. Those braving cancer. Those who fought with their lives in the war. Those still fighting today.

One day there will be a book written like no other. Published by a no one. Read by no one. And never recognized. The truths never discovered. The realizations never revealed. Just a broken world. In a broken, self centered society. 


© 2014 Broken Hearted Faux



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Added on January 25, 2014
Last Updated on January 25, 2014

Author

Broken Hearted Faux
Broken Hearted Faux

Salt Lake City, UT



About
Hello, the name's Lexy I've been on and off from Writerscafe between life and inspiration. I was once a dedicated writer, always with a pencil in my hand and a notebook by my side no matter whe.. more..

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A Chapter by Broken Hearted Faux