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What are you waiting for?
When the curtains rise on the show called life, when does the act really begin? Or do the clowns come out for a warm up act because life is meant to be a comedy? Hilarious actions sent down to the unforgotten angels living in this pond scum of a place called home. They sit upon their thorny chairs waiting for the day when the blood stops flowing and the world becomes dark. But in those days a single celled life form can come up and overthrow powerful creatures no one knew existed. But in the end everything is a fucked up mess and no janitor to clean it up.
When the walls of lies come tumbling down and the fortress of frailty becomes unclear, what do the soldiers of hatred do? They stand on their heels and lick their lips for the waiting slaughter about to ensue. Swords raise to the hilt and shields held high to protect.
Life is a game. A challenge. When you fall of the horse, your said to get back up and dust ourself off and climb back up. But what if you fall off the horse and the horse falls over dead? Are you dead? Or are you screwed because nothing more of the horse can happen? Frail words collapse upon human ears like raindrops in a gentl breeze. Frail and deliccate is the human psych.
