Some become Pro’s at Meth to Aleve the stress or graduated from Weeding out worries to be continually blessed; with the feeling of excessive happiness like they found a treasure chest…Buried beneath the sand; the one marked with the X. Or some people float through life half-conscience with their eyes dim sluggishly surveying the scenes; slow to be proactive never able to stand straight up so they constantly Lean. Then there are the ones so crippled by self pity with the thought that life is the bane of their pain; that they fool themselves into thinking that the only way they can walk straight is with their hands on the Caine…pushing forward while tragically going back. I hurt for the beautiful brown queens that choose to craft their tale as the villainous Heroine, even praising porcelain god on knees; with their future watching but not fully understanding; willing to imitate so tale does not end but has a sequel; the cycle has begun for Mor-Phines to come. Then there are the little brown kings that grow themselves with nobody to call Poppy so the box steps in. Teaches them how to talk to women, how to think at roughs times and gives “true” definitions of how things really are for them; seemingly trapped forever in the teachings. They manage to break free for a time; or so they think for the box has told him he can never escape him… The king will return extremely hastily shortly. Faster than most, so they can be lay and be one forever…The box victorious again, another victory; another toast. Shame how the bad things in life tie-in-and-all… so if life bruises wipe if off apply water don’t run for the Alcohol and if you get a headache sleep it off… for the best remedy isn’t always Tylenol….
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