roots

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I’m standing as tall as a Californian Redwood tree, but inside I am slowly rotting away. I am crumbling, peeling, and beginning to uproot and…

…do you even care?

I’m sick of drinking the salt that drips from eyes, would you fill your cup with my tears?

I’ve tried to wake the jackals, but they didn’t seem to notice me. When I screamed at them, they just yawned. And when I blew them kisses, they refused to growl. Is it crazy for me to be chasing this kind of attention? Or am I just stupid for not knowing how to get it? Maybe if I whiten my teeth, or chisel my body out of marble. Would that help? What if I dazzle you with my wit? I can write a book titled Jesus and the Joker, and act out scenes from Jekyll and Hyde. In my own way, I’m being held behind bars, so why won’t anyone pay my bail? Rejection can hurt. But being ignored and feeling worthless is a prison – I’m curious, how many of us are serving a life sentence?

Our world spins upside down and sometimes we have to lose our grip on the things we value in this life in order to grab on to true life. And Inside all of us, we know the truth of life…that there’s more than the next new cell phone or gadget or relationship…and that our heart beats in time with the sunset.

So why does the sun seem to be killing me? I’ve tried to sink my roots into fresh soil, but I’m too dried out from all my years. I know there are people who love me, but I just want to love myself. Not on a shallow, superficial level. No, I just want to feel like my breaths matter to your air.

We are saints and whores, beggars and kings. Were we created for rain?

No, the rain was created for us. So pour upon my dry and thirsty soul.

Even dead trees have roots.

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