Questions without answers.

But what are we then?
It will be misleading to describe a person for what they wear or the shape of their face. Even more off target will it be to delineate a breathing being for the size of their belly or the color of their skin. How is it to be considered legitimate, to draw a person and there not be included in it the wonderful thoughts that they had for the day? How would it be anything if not a lie, to call them by a name and not embrace the marvel that is in the thousand emotions they experience with the span of seconds? To live with the lives of all whom they love, despise and adore, inside of them exist more of others than they ever find of themselves. An act of kindness, suffocating laughter, scream of raw frustration, hour-long patience, tears of joy, warmth of a hug, numbness of betrayal… A person is all that, and much more. Or perhaps a person is nothing but skin, blood and bone.
How would we ever know?


Published by The Rainbow Ashes

People. Places. Poems.

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