There’s an asylum at the top of the hill that I look at. What goes on there must be something. I imagine souls burdened with twisted minds doing f**ked up things. That, I perceive as an act of complete innocence. It’s not their fault that they are f*&ked up. What can they do about it? There is no silence in a mind full of unreal thoughts. I question the higher power. Why does he/she grant such distorted, wicked minds to innocent souls? They truly don’t deserve this. It’s kind of f%$ked up if you ask me.
Don’t we all have free will? I’m not so sure about that. I’m plagued by my own issues. I’m an addict. I (according to extensive research) was born an addict. Addiction is treatable. Addiction is mental cancer. I am in remission. Whether I stay in remission is up to me. I’m grateful for each day and the people in my life as I take one hour at a time. I look up at the asylum. I hope one day the people in the asylum get out with a piece of serenity and solace. I will pray for them.
Rock, Ruff and Recovery 