“The troubles with being what’s considered a good and nice guy is no one knows what hell you’ve been through to make you so humble and appreciative to the point of caring. I change for no one other than myself these days, looking back I indeed played the asshole, with the whole attitude of fuck getting to know me, bitch go to hell, so well. I’ve grown to know if a woman needs the kind of guy she thinks is a messed up mystery, she’s a basic dumbass and throughout life will repeat her history with all the oh my’s and why me’s. So I am still an asshole in theory, because all the time I am smiling and talking, I am evaluating, calculating and determining if you are worth pursuing. If during the pursuit I find that you are just like the rest, then see you later, nope don’t need a time waister. You should ask a guy how’d he get so nice instead of a whiney, crybaby, bitch boy who can’t fix himself, what’s wrong, and what you can do to help. You’d be surprised who has the roughest story between the two, how one just finally had to do what he needed to do. That’s why I put my words to paper, not sure it will ever make my heart safer, but at least I don’t have to date you, if you are looking for some one to save or worse a savior, then get outta here, move along, cause I am looking for the one to enhance me as I enhance her, together we become something greater. For scars are to be overcome, just a reminder, of where you’ve been, who you were and if you can’t get beyond your past, why show up in somebody else’s future? A man is many thing’s, but to not learn and grow and become kind from the fires from life, the strife it causes, you’re not really a man at all, just a shadow, a smudge, to lame to have a proper name. Don’t get it wrong, a nice guy that over came, will still beat your ass if the occasion arises just the same.”
by Ryan L. Rinehart
He’s angry with the tides that bind
His heart untwinned from the rolled edges
He left behind, never begging for a moment of relief
A warrior of words in a land of silence he breaths, just like her she knows him well not in the flesh his blood she can smell
His scent serves her well in the land weak
His pack is heavy his kisses sweet
His senses keen to the touch
For those brave enough to enter his kingdom
A warning he displays engraved with rage.
Kirkland Chronicles / 5.26.2017
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Cool, Julie, I like the imagery.
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