Compassion
Remember when I’d say “This world is a beautiful,beautiful place” and you’d hear in incredulous silence and call me a baby?
I still believe so.Even after all that I have seen and heard and smelt and touched and tasted.Even after all that I have been through.Even after what we have been through.After what they have been through.
I suppose I have a genetic disorder of compassion.Or that you were right,I am a baby.
Nonetheless,I think this world is a beautiful,beautiful place.Even at 24.
