Some move through this world—caring for others, protecting one another—as if their life meaning has been lifted from the dictionary of human consideration.
Others act as if they’re fuel-injected muscle cars barreling through 2 AM residential streets, assaulting tired ears with squealing tires and steroid-infused tunes.
Is it something in the water, some family trauma, or life obstacle that teaches one compassion, versus storming the streets with overly revved engines, and the BOOM BOOM BOOM of offensive tunes sounding like a jackhammer mating call?
I’ve witnessed certain hearts bear a picture of a smile inside a locket.
I’ve seen an ink that refuses to write anything but trouble in the blood.
When the grenade demands a final cigarette before its detonation, ask it to reconsider.
See if it might like to put all that bang into creating a beautiful floral arrangement for a stranger.