dirt rags

all the petty preponderance of a shallow empty mind that I found in the garage beside the quitely whispering sight line of guidance, which I knew meant nothing. we all knew what was to come and to come was what we all knew. A flower is a simple creature, it neither lives nor dies, in the basic sense. I've neither lived nor died, in a prehistoric sense. I knew not what it was or where to get it but I understood it better than the rest. It is my mantra and it keeps me sane, it keeps me sane. Because I see it's always just a brush stroke away from eternal damnation from myself. I see that as a possibility only because I know that I could take it this way or that whenever I wish. She's somewhat like a dirty rag, being used and used until it's holy and dirty. So used up that it's lost all the good quality and it's quite rough around the edges. She's so much like a dirty rag, she's been used by everyone. But no one wants to wash her, clean her, restore her to the pure clean white that she was once. Instead, they keep her on a towel rack, using her at their convience. Isn't this the definition of a slave? Little dirty rag, share with my all your secrets. Where you've been, where your going, I'm actually listening this time. I'm different because I hear you and love you as my own. I will take you in and begin the long process that is making you you again. I will patch up your holes, I will wash the dirt from your face, I will clean your stains with bleach. Jorg will make sure your safe, he'll lay on you and keep you warm. We have a nice home here, lets us take you in and free you from the bonds of isolation the world has you in. You dont have to keep being used, you can be clean, you can be free, you can and you will.