Love is a Verb

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An Ounce of Compassion

I am hungry: yes, hungry for food, but more than that, hungry for love.  Sharp pains move through my stomach like a restless snake.  But the pain in my heart is fiercer, stronger, and is slowly growing into a mountain that blocks my view of life.  I am alone and I can’t restrain myself from asking one question.  A question that goes over and over in my mind.  Oh, why does no one want me? love me? take care of me?

I am struggling: struggling to ingore this hunger inside me.  I am struggling to hold this pencil as I print my name.  My five dirty fingers just won’t go around the wooden pencil right.  The letters are like my shadow: clumsy and awkward from my trembling hand.

I am scared: scared of what will happen next.  Uneasiness grips my heart; I grip tight to the sides of this dress.  I am…

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About Life Drawn Out

I draw pictures using graphite pencils and markers.

Posted on September 9, 2012, in Compassion, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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