I have had a tendency and a desire to help all the living things around me
But once they are out of sight, they are out of my mind and I couldn't care less if they were put out of their misery.
And just as the rats are the lowest of the low and walk amongst the filth of the earth there are those who are living at the highest of highs and it's been that way since their father's father's birth.
But the rats always go for the poison
WHY WOULD THEY ALWAYS GO FOR THE POISON?

And what about their father's father? He probably died the same way trying to reach the top only to be knocked down completely by something that seemed to be helping him along the way. But what if our father's father taught him how to be a better man? Maybe then he could've shared some of his secrets with me too. Maybe then I would've been stronger and I wouldn't have given in to such worldly temptations, but as the grass grows longer I have something that I can sink down under and hide myself in.

The trials in my life seem to be constantly overflowing. . . Like I'm the sea shore and these waves just keep crashing into me, bringing ocean debris, and all the trash that flows within the world begins to flow within me. My mom always had to remind me to bring the garbage out on Tuesday night, but now my garbage is out for everyone to see every single night of the week! There is no escaping this deep dark soliloquy because the only one who can truly hear me, is me. And I've stopped listening. . . I've stopped caring about what all this debris is doing to me physically and spiritually. I've stopped sharing my burdens among my brothers and sisters who have supposedly been there supporting me along my journey. Well let me ask you something,"WHERE WERE YOU WHEN I WAS EATING POISON?"

You sat along side of me or even better you sat in the back seat and all you kept whispering was,"Are we there yet?" as if the untimeliness of my death didn't seem to be so untimely. I've got scars up and down my sleeve and it's not because I had been participating in self harm, no, it's because you have been itching at me for the last 12 weeks to say sorry for a sin I didn't commit. You think that somehow magically once I apologize for this dark deed that used to plague thee unreasonably that somehow it will wipe your memory clean. But darling, oh darling, there will never be a way for you to move passed the things you said to me. For when I was in the deepest and darkest of shadows, who was there to comfort me other than the demons who dragged me there in the first place? "Well it is certainly too obscene in that ditch for me to try to get my hands dirty. If he is truly repentant, God will lift this mans burdens and set him free." But what if God's plan, the only hope for me . . . Was you.

It was you all along who was meant to come down to me and meet me in those dirty places, it was you who was supposed to wash me clean because God sent you there to help wipe my memory. But instead I lie down and sleep with the scum between my teeth and you just hurriedly walk by making sure to drop the poison along the way so I would have something to eat.

And just as the rats are the lowest of the low and walk amongst the filth of the earth there are those who are living at the highest of highs and it's been that way since their father's father's birth.
But the rats always go for the poison

And now I know why.