Who wants flowers when you're dead? Nobody.
Warm Blood.
17 March 2005 | 15:20

Why do people let shame be a weapon against them? Since when was shame a weapon, to begin with? And what does it say about the people that would use shame as a weapon?

Those that would use shame as a weapon have no shame. If they have no shame, then they have no virtue. No virtue for man is the same as to be hollow. The same as to be a cardboard box. Able to house a number of things, but is not an end unto itself. Mankind should be an end unto itself. Not just a means to make an end. Not just the box carrying the end.

I'd never let my shame be used against me. I'll never let my virtue be turned against me. To do so would be to turn one's back on the Human Spirit and deny the righterousness therein.

This world is not hard. It is simple. Easy. I still have yet for it to become difficult beyond that which I, myself, complicate. And, even then, only simplicity can untangle that wretched web.

At any rate, there is something beautiful dawning on the horizon. This Summer, my blood will boil in veins and turn to liquid. It'll spread like wildfire everywhere I go. And I'll warm the soul that has warmed me.

There is nothing quite like fire. Nothing like the blaze inside of me.

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