Danyo

 
You got high off my devotion
Weak hearts as your crutch
Like some sick love potion
I was addicted to your touch
I carried your weight
The misplaced rage
And the burden of hate
The decadence of decay

I still think of you
And all the shit you put me through
And I know you were wrong
I still think of you
And all the shit you put me through
And I know now
I know you were wrong

You made pain your lover
Infidelity not discrete
I knew you found another
How could I compete
Abusive words covered me like dust
I waited to know for sure
You only give loveless lust

I still think of you
And all the shit you put me through
And I know you were wrong
I still think of you
And all the shit you put me through
And I know now
I know you were wrong

Dark clouds follow you around
Your own worst enemy
Only picked me up to bring me down
Down down down down
Down
Down

I still think of you
And all the shit you put me through
And I know you were wrong
I still think of you
And all the shit you put me through
And I know now
I know you were wrong

I still think of you
And all the shit you put me through
And I know you were wrong
I still think of you
And all the shit you put me through
And I know now
I know you were wrong

pardon my french, and don't mind me raising my voice.

“I am aware that many object to the severity of my language; but is there not cause for severity? I will be as harsh as truth, and as uncompromising as justice. On this subject, I do not wish to think, or to speak, or write, with moderation. No! no! Tell a man whose house is on fire to give a moderate alarm; tell him to moderately rescue his wife from the hands of the ravisher; tell the mother to gradually extricate her babe from the fire into which it has fallen; — but urge me not to use moderation in a cause like the present. I am in earnest — I will not equivocate — I will not excuse — I will not retreat a single inch — AND I WILL BE HEARD.”
― William Lloyd Garrison, abolitionist.

Weary

My 10th maternal cousin, Yohan was born yesterday.
He died 52 minutes later.

I'd just found out on June 30th as we celebrated the 7th birthday of grandkid number 9 that he had Trisomy 13. He had an extra kidney, his brain wasn't developed properly, he had one nostril, and 24 digits.

I saw pictures of him. Such a beautiful baby. Long graceful limbs. His nose was malformed, but otherwise, he just looked so perfect. 16 inches, just under 3 pounds. He was due on my birthday, September 11.

Yohanan is Hebrew, meaning "God is merciful"

Is he really? Well, I'm weary from this "mercy".