strife.

I am experiencing some writer’s block, or rather an unwillingness to share. More specifically, when I try to type, it seems that the words are no longer there. It’s not that I don’t have much to say or that nothing is happening in my life, rather it is that I feel exhaustion from a plaguing and daunting strife. Paining me, this weight sits on my mind and on my heart, for I’ve come to learn about the malicious; their deceiving nature is their art. I’ve never understood the motive that some people have to harm another life, I don’t understand the thrill or the push that they feel, their spitefulness is rife. There is no good in the choice to slander one another, wishing badly upon someone else and hoping that your lies will not uncover. But as good things happen to those who do good, people generally get what they deserve. For the innocent that are slandered, there is hope; you have a power that lies within the genuinity of your word. Your voice is your weapon; your actions are your defense. You’re the only one that knows and understands your truth. You can only hope that those with whom you trust also have the gift of a moral sense.