Things Change When You're Not In Danger

I Always Look For A "rhythm" In My Writing. A Cadence To The Sentences. Sometimes I Think Of Pieces I Write In A Song Writing Infrastructure - I.e., A Verse, A Chorus That I Return To, A Bridge That's Something Differenct, A Chorus That I Return To.

I Believe He Died This Way On Purpose. I Believe He Wanted No Chilling Moments, No One To Witness His Last Breath And Be Haunted By It, The Way He Had Been Haunted By His Mother's Death-notice Telegram Or By His Father's Corpse In The City Morgue.

He Cried That Night For All That He Had Lost, But He Would Say It Taught Him A Valuable Lesson: That Holding On To Things "will Only Break Your Heart.

Turn On The Faucet. Wash Yourself With The Emotion. It Won’t Hurt You. It Will Only Help. If You Let The Fear Inside, If You Pull It On Like A Familiar Shirt, Then You Can Say To Yourself, “all Right, It’s Just Fear, I Don’t Have To Let It Control Me. I See It For What It Is".

Anger Is A Poison. It Eats Us Inside. We Think When We Hate Someone We Hurt Them, But Hatred Is A Curved Blade, And The Harm We Do To Others We Also Do To Ourselves.