Fending off evil stories from your mind looks like standing up. Peeling back veils I painted on my eyes feels like waking up. Keep offending. It doesn’t make you strong. Wake up. All pandering does is keep you on. Losing at your favorite game to play. But those rules never applied to us anyway. When you ask I will show you human lives every single time. Feed on our fear. It won’t dowse the lake of fire. I know myself and it doesn’t make me wrong. Show me human lives (what about— what about— what about—) every single time
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PJ Bostic Hope In The Winter Stage (independent)
