"It has been said that the son pays for the father's sins, but I believe this to be true. I am suffering for mistakes that my father made, and he is so blind he can't even see my struggles. He doesn't seem to see that every time he takes a slip of his drug, I am the one stumbling in the dark alley. He doesn't see that he hasn't taught me anything about the real world. I have been bouncing around in my bubble for years. Between him and my mother my brain was filled to the top with lies. Parents feel that some times lying to their children is a lot better off then letting them know the cruel hard truth of this sick little world. When my bubble finally did burst I was flooded with all of the things I was never told as a kid. These things started to eat away at me, and as I am getting older they are still tearing through the flesh. "I can't control myself" I'll say, but the number one thing is that I don't know who, or what I am. Am I suppose to become my father? Of course, you would say to become your own man, somebody better. The question is as the world of sin corrupts my mind will I become just like my father, anyways? Will the cycle continue? Everyone seems to be so curtain about there futures, and what they want, but the truth is that they don't really have a clue, it's out of our hands. God drives up and down our paths each day, he knows them like the back of his hand. Does that make us his little puppets? Is the Devil there to cut our strings? I do know that I don't have the answers of this "Spiritual World". Believing in God means that you will never know your path, your expected to walk through the darkness holding onto nothing but your faith. So why does my father continue to struggle? God is with us all the time, but this is the same with the Devil. My Father believes in God, but it's seems that the Devil is winning that battle hands down. Are we all just casualties in this war? Are we supposed to fight with everything, but die by the Devil's hand in the end? Pray I am more then what my father is, and maybe I won't be just another plaything the Devil likes to toy with before he devours me whole."
rain falls from the blackness in the sky, the water soaks the earth. here we stay a float, but slowly we are drowning. the mud grabs us by the ankles, pulling us into the ground. everyday is a struggle to move. With all of these days, we carry out this weight, walking closer to the pavement. we tippy toe across the marsh, crashing faster each time. crushed to our knees, our hearts slow to a beat. we question our strength, savoring every last drop, like the very last scotch. and at the end of the day, when the moon covers the view. your soft hand pressures, then squeeze’s these muscles and slowly cracks the bones, you push down upon me, I pray you don’t break me. With all the pain and agony, we continue to push forward, but we question our lives, always struggling to stand up straight. fearing our inevitable fate. carrying this horrible weight. Note; In all honesty this is about the world and the struggle to live, have faith in God, but the weight some t...
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