The dashboard screams alarming colors of warning, fearful hues that project danger but have no ability to extend aid, correct, or reconstruct the damage of which it alarms or alerts. The gears grind onward in circular patterns and add friction to inertia in a physics prediction of machine life, slice it in half with neglect. The walk seems so much longer and arduous with these ill-fitting shoes; blisters form and shine like hidden supernovas on trodden feet that only point blankly across non-directional milestones of away, gone, i-hate-your-face, and never-ever-more. Misguidance bleeds and rubs raw and causes much confusion in a heavy blanket of blindness of the steps plodded, the words absorbed with bruises, the brushes of reality that make one sigh heavily in thankfulness, or cringe in shameful recollection. My skin is fresh, easily burned, and wounds are still there even if the scabs and band-aids and gauze have been bravely discarded. I tread lightly amidst the throngs of pointless parameters and aiding abetters; where am I going, face of reflection and future?
3 comments:
Nice post!Like your style. =)
I like the style of that blog, too. But I feel like there is an hidden message in it!!
You got it, it does have a hidden message. Actually, it has two hidden messages. Good work Jill.
Post a Comment