Cast out by friends, bruises by families, left with unwanted circumstances.
Where lies told truth and sharpen edges become plaster. Faith fell on uncanny grounds and the river of fresh flows dirty stream. The mine stir n stir but a conclusion was never become, illusion is a puppet that think it’s funny and diversion draws closer to repute social class. The end was never the beginning, weakness was never strength and beautiful speaking can never win race. it hurts the most to actually feel hurt and joy is not always for laughter. My wounds are great but my dance is even greater because happy is the man who find joy in unfavourable circumstances.
By:Tamica James 17/4/19
Puncher wounds, Graceful dance!