sometimes….
who am I to be the judge of a man when I am as wicked as they come? A wretch, a disappointment, a coulda been shoulda been. Who are you to be the judge of me? No compassion in your heart no mercy no peace. Who is to say one mortal god created the very ground you walk on? No explenation no proof, just a handbook on the way we should live our lives. Who are we to think there is something beyond us? An eternity no measure of time endless sky. Never a struggle never a worry. Why would someone create s human with all the emotion all the worry and recklessness just to take it away. Who is to say we are even real at all?
Sometimes the very thought of how is any of this possible blows my mind.


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