Image taken by Raymond Daniel Burke(uploaded from google)

What if your child came to you and said they wanna be like you, cuz you get the…

Others work, while you stunt and pose. Milking youth out of old man bones. You are care-free. Only worrying about your needs.

Traveling the road to selfish riches. Broken with reflections of a deadbeat, getting pounded by life, without making a sound, or standing your ground.

Life moves on, leaving you behind it’s fast pace. You imagine, but sleep, wasting-even the escape of chasing a dream.

A trapped go getter, on the move, but going nowhere. You stand by, wait, worry, contemplate fate, preaching intelligence behind repeated mistakes.

The child follows your plan of escape. Seeing and believing, failing to try is safe, successful living. Never taught to look or find another way.

Now, your children are the leaders of a new race.

I write to breath. I write to give. I write for happiness.

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