Woven from feelings of happiness and friendship, short-lived as those feelings may be.
Woven from a cat’s meow and a dog’s tail wag.
Woven from ideals of love and compassion.
Woven from goodness itself.
This is how I weave my clothes.
Posted in response to the challenge Weave.
When someone is sick, we say they're on Death's doorstep.
But aren't we always?
People always act like we're so far away from death.
But really we're not.
Justice must be served.
The man who shot her must pay the price.
Doesn’t matter if he was scared or not, she didn’t deserve this.
Nobody does.
That man needs to be brought to justice.
Who am I?
I don’t even know anymore.
I’ve shed the person I once was in favor of a new one.
Yet, I’m still that person.
I’m both at once and neither.
So who am I?
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