I am all aboard on the skeptic's train.
A train that moves in a pace of a too precised velocity.
A monotone that hums low under the feat of heated coals.
Coals that are replaced by burning desire.
The ember that sparks through the night and die slowly as it hits the ground.
Will it all disappear?I am skeptical. Confused maybe?
As vague as the further may seem,
I am still hoping for that glimmer of certainty.
Everything doesn't seem to fall in place like how I figured it would.
It worries me that what have been told is to be justify in just a
matter of time. The clear line between the raw truth and plain propaganda.
I would have to learn to see it quick enough, somehow.
On the good side, I am still breathing well.
Not a tad claustrophobic.
It leaves me to wonder what is there left.
In the midst of the juvenile minds, judgemental attributes,
the pillars of support and huge fog right in the open,
a source in me is somewhat keeping me going strong.
I shall end with a note from Karen Walker,
"All right. Don't be too chatty. Just make your breasts sound big."