Yea, that’s right, you know who you are, I’m talking to you—
Let me ask you something,
Do you ever make time to treat yourself kind?
Do you ever sit down to simply unwind?
If not, well then you should,
The mind would respond dirtied matter unbind if only you understood
The adult brain is still a sponge that can soak up anything—
Water over head,
There’s no such thing as too much overflow of purity
Down below, a drain to let the stains of your past just wash away,
The imprints of imperfection in flawed logic
Markups of egocentric thinking you could control this life at every turn
Up on the countertop clocking your every punch out,
Your every effort to bottle up the impermanence that is life—
Strife is THAT fight,
Not the good, true fight you’ll find inside,
This potential embedded in the makeup of every single human being on this Earth,
Now how’s that for self worth?
A purified sponge washes away all the hate
And yes (that’s right, I’m still not done talking with you), it’s never too late,
Fate is natural unfolding of events beyond your control,
It’s a cruel, cold world out there for sure,
But inside it doesn’t have to be,
Let it all go
Let water overflow
And you will see
It is still pure.