changes; minutes gone, not to return
| Not so easy to dispel the anger, the vitriol directed your way. The assault upon my person, my morning, the day when all should be rest and peace and good and fine; ruination of such for reason not known as if any could mend what stinks of decay now; gone, forever. Doesn't pass past this troubled head where thoughts don't cease that only when anger boils and fear arises, of one and then another, that niceties come from the latter, decent behavior that one person bestows on another as mere politeness, even if strangers and/or acquaintences. Those actions should pale, comparably though actuality comparison is not to be made here for two different animals they are, to how one reacts to another, when in love, when in the throes of forever, declared passion, loyalty, union. This should make behavior to those two, or however many are entered into such a state, between those persons involved sweeter, kinder, working harder to please; to make the ride easier, less driven, a lilting, floating caress upon the rough, the brittle, callous, trek to there, wherever that might be.
Not the brightest is the former (written of before), not the smartest, nor the dullest, not most special, just another ant in the line. But even he, me, can learn from experience when slapped continuously with the harshest of realities. That being, that no sooner will the furor subside and heart is left open again will the pricks, the pins, (the needles sharpened), reappear. The ugliness, the words of spite, the hurtful tomes, will strike again, and again, and again. Someday, lesson learned by one but by the other? Will that day come too late?
Minutes tick away, hours lost, days only memory and not good ones were they. The tale to be written, ending fairy tale or misery?