Crumbs.
At least,
Mine are bigger than what birds tend to eat.
Being angry is a choice,
But,
It’s a choice I don’t have to make while I still have the blessing to breathe.
And,
It’s not all about perspective.
It’s about,
Acknowledging what I have in front of what I invest in,
The plate feeding into a character with ego making a mess of,
A life now washed of its malevolence…
Sure,
My heart was broken into a plethora of pieces,
From getting myself stuck in the weeds,
Of a hard-knock life,
But,
All I had to do was plant a piece in,
The ground and allow my tears to grow past every ache from marijuana trees and,
Alcohol forcing me to wrestle a sting after being,
Poured onto my wounds forming such a beautifil pedigree of scars I can’t seem to look away from…
I mean,
Why would I?
Why would I not feast my eyes upon a master piece,
On a canvas much larger than every bit of pain my mind can conceive?
Gigantic enough for you and I to paint on,
To reconnect each puzzle piece revealing a sight for sore eyes reminding another to stay strong,
And,
Sway…
Sway each hand back and forth,
Until those who can’t bear to witness fold,
Their foul play according to the beauty we court,
As one like we’re all meant to be.
But,
Never will it happen if we don’t take a bite,
With a smile,
Of what we’re given in peace,
Even if it’s too small for our human eyes to see.
Even,
If it’s all just a dream,
Only waiting to be seen…
m3l0dicverse 
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