If my babies were witnesses of the soul I actually am and they were stolen because a dictator wanted to shape my image, to be who he wanted others to see, thus allowing people to blow off the discipline of their own soul and work for him to complete a task, (my spirit designed), then there is an absolute problem.
Trying to keep hold of people who allow other people to decide for their heart based on the want of revenge (unjustly), only feeds their ego. Because what they want avenged is not a concept that can be changed, it is like trying to escape the convictions of the past that were sentenced in the right increments of law.
This driver, of what he believes to be his vessel, gives away the richness of the moral lines, he encourages immoral behaviour because without the respect for the metaphysical, he uses those people who are empty of value, he uses them to raise himself up, and encourage hatred in the energies of others. Conflict in the minds of those on a pathway of life.
Calling in achievers to try and denounce the Elder order, so he can perch himself on top, above the gods and taking the place of the Lord through semantical understanding of terms; like a blue wren who steals the wind of others to give to those who validate his wrongs, against the solid wings of direction, trying to create a drop pigeon.
The thing is, I don’t fight. I defend.
You see they can’t accept I see through my souls eyes and by refusing to adhere to the line I know, they try to curl it up, not wanting to loose it, but not wanting to accept me.
Those wanting revenge still fight, by preaching goodness and denial, they antagonize and hallucinate trying to see outside of their own journey.
Influencing others they project my line of sight back on me. Those who have given themselves to reap the scars of revenge have no clarity, they are swimming in the eyes of those who also want to erase the past, erase the existence of me.
Filling themselves up, similar to delivering an essay without references, is how it feels.
Trying to defend against the bamboozlement of genocide recycled.
Like screen-shoting a private post and sharing it virally to people under another context, blocking that page from my view.
Stealing my identity, stealing my all.
Refusing to join the dots instead wanting to weave and give away what is me, making me fight. Accusing me of being obnoxious.
They don’t respect male and female, they want to destroy me, because they can’t be me. Arguing all the time because they want to capitalise on my alive, but not follow the knowledge, only take it in vain, causing so many pain.
They waged war on me because they failed to allow me to open a conversation with my family about what things meant to me. I aggravate when their influence sniggers people up reversing the truth, trying to wash it upon my aura. Accusing me of trying to alter the notion of lies that were churned up when I was entrapped by the very people who wanted to enact a stage where revenge could be perceived. The transference caused by insinuation.
Insinuation that tries to negative gear correlation and trick people to think.
My parental rights were stolen because those stage setters enjoyed my silence. Then used sex as an excuse. Confusion was the leverage of petulance.
I disappoint many when I cry, because everyday I feel that I have been exploited and those who done so are still trying to cover up their depth by pretending that I am a lessor.
Addicted to asking others about me, they use their opinions, I feel uncomfortable around others because of their intrusion. Influenced by the underlying want of revenge, crossed, I am thrown away. Considered too much trouble.
I deserve more than an apology, More than some ghostly effort to try and give me something to do because behind the cover-up, they know.
A am not some dragon fly, some nymph yet to form. That cop out is sheepish.
My needs are being ignored because of those who wanted to dance and deliver a story of time; those who wanted to insist I was a dead head and didn’t need to know; those who stole my happiness because they wanted to play god and interfere; and because of those who decided to boost them who were touched by my soul. Preventing them from connecting the dots.
Instead I was assaulted and thus the connections could not be ignored.
But, I will survive 🙂
Life is more than what is assumed.
Life is not a right to accumulate what you like the most, or to try and alter the shape of your soul. Life is progressive and time takes no orders from those who want to denounce it to fly in pockets of another’s light.