WhispereDreams

Your car sits in the sand and starved grass of your mother’s front lawn, its roar of high school machismo quieted. It is just another thing you have pushed to the edge of brokenness, lacking the mercy to end it or the will to fix it. Eventually, it will give out entirely and someone will come to tow it away, because that’s just easiest. Remembering your careless step, the toothy smile that said you had already forgotten it, I can only imagine that God is a sad old man with a receding line of wispy hair and watery bloodshot eyes too weary for bitterness -- He did not see this future when He created us and said that we were very go