3ft by 3ft sqaure that's only 3 feet tall
That's what I'm being shoved in
Everytime i try to escape
I feel like I get pushed back again
A different person everytime
I can't even describe the pain
I can't describe the frustration
Or the persistancy
Why keep trying if I'm just gonna go right back in?
Why give antoher shove to fail again
because another day in that damn box
is a day wasted
A damn day without trying to get out of that stupid box
is a day without purpose
And I will continue to try
Until every person who I could possibly fight through
Is gone.
Why here bad news when you're already upset?
Why know you're going to spend the night in that wooden Box And continue to try?
Sometimes I ask myself why?
And sometimes I don't know
But it's okay to not know
Because you know there's a purpose somewhere
In the back of your mind
Being pushed
Into a Box that's 3ft by 3ft that's only 3ft tall
It reminds me of how some
It reminds me of how some people treat their pets.... that's all I keep thinking about when I read this. Oh...and once there was a child abuse case I saw on tv where the parents were sick themselves and they had grand children they were unable to take care of. So they made these cage looking things they kept them in so they wouldn't wander the house and get hurt .... crazy, huh.... sad.
...I wouldn't know what to call it because I don't know what you wrote it about... maybe "just a cat"....or "just" an animal.
... ??
...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."
"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "
I never really thought about
I never really thought about it that way before that's really awesome thanks!
Remember that you're waking up to daylight tomorrow, and that's something beautiful.....
Oh wow!!! I am so
Oh wow!!! I am so honored!
Yea...makes you really feel for the precious kitties and pups. They love us so...and unconditionally. It's like we do not even know real love when we see it. It has to start with the parents teaching the children what love really is maybe, and not all the material things in life.
...
...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."
"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "