Rebelle Society

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inhumane

wisdom

The Truth Beneath The Masks We Wear.

Have I become so comfortable in my discomfort, so accustomed to dying in my daily living, that I now embody a midnight mask to replace the false cheeriness of my childhood's plight? And what if I am not either or, but both, strands of black and gold that weave the web of my spider's heart?

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poetry

The Enemy.

Excuses, reasons, rationale for motives, there are none. No matter what is said after the fact. For money, for drugs, for a skin’s color, for a preference, for getting ahead, for things, for lack of attention -- Don’t pretend one of those can justify. They are not the enemy.

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