a line through fire

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drawing a line
is like taking broken bits of your past
and pushing them together
molding like a child does hardscrabble clay
hoping you’ll finally be that vessel
to hold the waters you will need

drawing that line
is like seeing safety
through billow clouds of smoke
feeling fire lick your skin and scrape with pain
as you escape through a window aflame
fueled by combustible anger and regrets like rags in a corner

drawing a line
is like setting that fire
hoping you have enough in you
to leave the flames
and let time snuff things out
leaving what isn’t needed among the ashes

two singles means a lot.

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while out yesterday, I saw this one cat just moving through
the outdoor patio. most gave him a wide berth. I’m on the
phone, but I picked up his walk from like 30 feet away. he
looked at me, I looked at him. could tell he had some hard
times. but I didn’t recoil. he strode over near me, said “what’s
good bruh?” and I nodded, said “everything brother, maintainin’.”
he walks up to me after that, and proceeds to tell me he
just got out of Dannemora about two days ago. I listen, and
I then see the flashes of whatever he saw in there in his
face. knowing what it was, I had my hand in my pocket on
a single or two. as he finished, I said “it’s all good man.” &
gave him the singles. he looked at me briefly in shock and
gave me dap and a hug. “thank you brother, God bless you.
you don’t even know what this means, man” I just nodded
and said “All good bruh, be safe out here.” as he walked off.

two singles may not mean so much to you and me off the
bat but when it’s the razor cut that could sever you from all
you know or whatever ties to what you’re trying to hold to…
yeah.