grace.

eighteen years. eighteen years of keeping mouths shut. closing doors. sweeping lives and loves under a politically incorrect rug in the middle of a poorly decorated living area. without the slightest inkling of wrong-doing, it fell. as much as it fell, it shattered; broke into millions and trillions of tiny little pieces strung together by the strings of hearts who’ve been here before. right here. now and before. always will it catch up. always will it know. never shall a sneak be allowed to slick by with the grace of angels. close your eyes, and things will be new. keep them open, watch them change. regardless, it will happen. knew it would be different. knew it would be all the things wished for over a lifetime. a lifetime of eighteen years. message says, “this is not the end. it only feels that way.” with the freedom come to know, so has a world of issues unforeseen and uninvited. unwanted. new track: not a human, with tendencies to be amazing underneath social standards. we are not the same.