after all

after all

A Poem by joshua deathdealer
"

06/2014

"
                         our stories have already been told
                           in fractions, in frames


                                    I can taste it now
                                         never to be the same
                                                       it is a part of who I am
                                                      never mind the escapes
                                            we no longer have to take the blame
                                          only responsibility 
                                   we'll come back around
                           indefinitely, over and over
                        we are human, after all
 

© 2014 joshua deathdealer


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Featured Review

I love you speak of fractions and frames, for a good writer, has them around his/her writings, he/she will be observing a writing as a visionary picture, or a painting... in shape, colour and wholeness of being.

And no picture is perfect, nor human beings are... however when they choose to be themselves, and accept their flaws, and accept the way they are, I find them more perfect then ever... :)
thought provoking dear one.

- Elisa


Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

I love you speak of fractions and frames, for a good writer, has them around his/her writings, he/she will be observing a writing as a visionary picture, or a painting... in shape, colour and wholeness of being.

And no picture is perfect, nor human beings are... however when they choose to be themselves, and accept their flaws, and accept the way they are, I find them more perfect then ever... :)
thought provoking dear one.

- Elisa


Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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Added on June 25, 2014
Last Updated on June 25, 2014
Tags: humanity, cycle, life

Author

joshua deathdealer
joshua deathdealer

Casket City, FL



About
"My trepidation of things past is not a song with a beginning, middle and end. But an endless symphony playing infinite variations on the same theme. One day of sadness fades into another and the .. more..

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