The sand beneath my feet, a welcome presence beneath my toe nails. The gentle breeze that flies in with the tide and flies out just as fleeting as life itself, a brief yet gentle reminder of Beauty in an Hostile world.
It leaves. The fantasy blends into reality, the cold harsh concrete, like shards from a broken light bulb beneath my feet. The stench of survival, it's a constant sweaty stench as far from beauty as there can be; a reminder of a fight that's barely won.
Everyone clambering to succeed, to make something of a world that only poses more obstacles rather than nurturing young minds and developing them into something spectacular, spawning pain after pain, criminal after criminal, terrorist after terrorist It's such a horrible place, so horrible it's hard to think of something beautiful in it, sure I can think of beautiful 'someone's' but not something beautiful that the world is wholly responsible for. The world is wounded and we, its inhabitants, have wounded it.
It leaves. The fantasy blends into reality, the cold harsh concrete, like shards from a broken light bulb beneath my feet. The stench of survival, it's a constant sweaty stench as far from beauty as there can be; a reminder of a fight that's barely won.
Everyone clambering to succeed, to make something of a world that only poses more obstacles rather than nurturing young minds and developing them into something spectacular, spawning pain after pain, criminal after criminal, terrorist after terrorist It's such a horrible place, so horrible it's hard to think of something beautiful in it, sure I can think of beautiful 'someone's' but not something beautiful that the world is wholly responsible for. The world is wounded and we, its inhabitants, have wounded it.