Not sure if it's because my
guy showed me a segment
honoring Rosa Parks, or the
most gorgeous full moon
ever or the nightmare I had
last night, but I seem to keep
tearing up.
I find I want to say something
and my voice is thick with
unshed emotion.
What the hey?! Most nights,
I dream of my own dead . . .
dad, mom, bro, friends. The
veil feels thin. Can't help but
wonder why?! Rather feels
as if I were on my way to join
the party.
Guess Mr. Life isn't required
to explain himself! My job is
to choose to live it or just exist.
So hoping I'll always choose
life rather than to just sit in my
easy chair and watch life go by.
Sooooo in thinking about it,
Rosa Parks is my shero. The
moon is the love of my life.
And if the price I have to pay
for them is nightmares, so be it!
That's why God invented tears,
right?!
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