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The Little Things

*pic courtesy from pinterest  The little things the little smile the little flower in the corner aisle the little butterfly catches my eye along with  the hovering bee like sketches drawn in the sky look at the little ant fleet just close to my feet the little spider takes a warm seat the little girl who hops on the broken tile while her mother looks right across  the street from a mile I wave at her she waves back the little gestures the little fingers the little spider continues to linger the little heartbeats as humming treats while I pick up the little crumbs from my bread last night

I am Not Perfect

I am not perfect..
No I am not..
Having being said that..
No one is nor ever will be.
You keep thinking about someone..
And they don’t ..
No two minds think alike.
Not until they dislike..

I am not a saint..
No I am not..
My identity doesn’t define character.
Nor slaughtering it will make any difference.
I trust strangers..
Yes, I don’t know why..
They leave as abruptly as they arrive..
But that doesn’t stop me from taking the dive.


I am not evil..
Yet at times thoughts grow twisted.
Staying sober is expected..
But after neglect things fall apart.
I know we are in for a purpose..
Solving others dissolving your own cause..
You can’t command nor request.
Not even make them your quest..
Pleasing to be just..
Easy comes trust..
Until you wait till it ends up in rust.

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