I saw a hundred sad souls today. Blank stare, blistered, beaten. All conversation and social interaction cease to exist caused by exhaustion and depression. What are we doing with ourselves? I’ll see another hundred sad souls tomorrow, trying to figure out how they got to this point in life. The last good day is not in recent memory. For those who said “fuck it- I quit,” they now occupy street corners, dark allies, and cardboard boxes asking for kindness. Receiving kicks in the face. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness failed these sad souls. Something kept close, growing, living, knowing what can’t go away. What has been found? Years of holding in my simple life. To feel this world dying within itself, as it falls to its knees… as we die… our kids to see a dead world. We kill for them… as we die.