My life is mostly bittersweet
It comes and goes with
every deed
Are we to blame
Or just in need
When the last is gone
We plant our seed
A blog about life and its stories.
My life is mostly bittersweet
It comes and goes with
every deed
Are we to blame
Or just in need
When the last is gone
We plant our seed
Healing rain
We stand in line not
to go insane
As the corridors open
Windows are broken
And now who’s to
blame
I had a friend
He was gone when the
first bombs fell
Are we going to hell
It‘s all the same
We’re here alone
No light shines
through the windows
I call it redemption
But out of temptation
I try to restrain
There is a new
morning
I hear some talking
Shots in the distance
Our last resistance
It’s all the same
My whole dreams are just a mile away
And I know patience
is my way to joy
I could stay and wait
Forever and ever more
Or just stand for
what
I love the most
I could dream a
million dreams
I could wake and sing
or so it seems
My life was made
of so many chances
So many chances
My self defense is
My self defenses
They hold me
From suceeding
I can break these
walls
That hold me down
That hold my crown
My life was made
of so many chances
So many chances
My self defense is
My self defenses
They hold me
From suceeding
Does anybody know why
life is that cruel
Is there any rule
I will suceed
I make my way
All my stupid
thoughts
Have gone astray
My life was made
of so many chances
So many chances
My self defense is
My self defenses
They don’t hold me
From suceeding
I will make it
I will make it
My life was built of
So many chances
My self defenses
They protect me
I'm cab driver since half a year. The stories you hear they change you and your worldview piece by piece. It's not about what you hear on the news but what you hear from people who have been at places for real and their simple part of a certain story. Usually you hear this story only for some minutes without any proof if it's wrong or right and who else was involved and what's their part of it. There's one story that came to my mind first when I started to write.
The guy I drove wanted to go to a bar. At one point he told me that he had been a soldier in the Afghan War back when the Soviets occupied the country and in some other warfare zones. He told me he saw cruelty people do to each other that's hard to imagine when you don't witness yourself. He told about children and women being slaughtered without any mercy and the helplessness faced with demons that won't make you any different from this. He was left with posttraumatic stress disorder - how we like to call it - or simply the fact that all these horrible pictures still wander around in his mind and torture him. I don't know if he had to kill people too or just witnessed other people being killed. And I honestly don't know if it's worse to kill somebody who would else kill others and be left on the same level or to see it happening wishing to intervene.
In the end people are sometimes left with choices where all options are terrible to take and put damage to others and oneself. And what's left is trying to live with it.