Day 53 : The Voices In Our Head

There is a little flower that blooms on the pile of garbage, on a piece of bark, on a moss of green.

I've never seen a sight more hopeful, this flurry of color, on brown and dirt, in the midst of stink and reek.

I look at the life of those around me, and mine. At the toil and the gripe we feel it to be. At the helplessness we feel trying to cope with it.

There must be something that still pushes us forward. To live each day. Survive as best as we could, not give in to the despair. Why then must we think of putting up with this torture each day?

I see strength when people to put a strong face and go about their lives. Or is it pride?

We are all too strong for our own good I guess. We are all maybe waiting for someone to hear our silent calls for help. We are all needy but hate to show it.

We still dream of it. We think someone will come save us. So we wait, hoping for the day to come.

That is why we all do not give in to the voices in our heads. After all, nobody will hear our cries with the barrel of a gun between our teeth.