November 1, 2000: Weapons of war

The life we live today are trails smudged by people who feel they can always do better. The young travelers almost never look back—to do so is a disease. Most can’t answer who their forefathers were. I’ve learned to trust no one but the wind. I hear songs while my heart watches then takes cover. All paths don’t lead to destruction—decomposed, willingness fades the path which otherwise would paint the perfect picture. Therefore, my choice is to sit alone—not out of fear but to protect your path from my un-willingness to believe…in you.