Shallow tears

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Her heart breaks, not for the player and his promiscuous ways, but for the homeless lady she sees in the same spot everyday. Her heart bleeds, not for gucci bags or anything else she might wish to keep. But because she heard about families in Grenfell towers burning in their sleep. Her heart weeps not because of her flaws or insecurities, but for the mother of that little boy that was stabbed on her own high street. She’s human too. Full of her own doubts regrets and fears. But her angelic eyes would just not let her cry,¬† shallow tears.

 

concrete jungle

In this capitalist climate, where you’re only as good as the goods and services you provide, the way you’re taught to market yourself is often mistaken for a personality… When really, we’re all just products of the massive factory our environment has become…put some pretty packaging on, and hope you fit in with the rest of the breathing statistics.
It is, however, what it is… Get lost, or get with it… At least that what they tell us.
When they can’t see what propells us. They’ll say we’re headstrong and overzealous…but the sad fact is that, living or loving freely in this mad factory, will leave you labelled as rebellious…

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