Jeremiah2002

Kurdy:
[reads from his unfinished poem to the pilgrims] I wear hope around my neck like a noose. It's loose enough for me to breathe when I need to get me through the day. And, with each swagger and sway, comes a new belief that there's a new relief around the way. So I keep going, halfway knowing it's just a trick my mind likes to play so I don't quit. Or is it? Maybe, I'll never know. Maybe I'll never go past the dreaming that there's more, the scheming that what I'm searching for is seemingly reminiscent to the folklore that there's a garden paradise where I can settle and never have to leave. Where I can [closes eyes] breathe deep breaths and exhale with abandon. Maybe that paradise is wherever I'm standing... tall, [opens eyes but no longer looking at his notes] believing in myself, that I can conquer all the sadness and all the madness, and have a ball wherever I go. Could that be the paradise I'm looking for? Maybe. Maybe I'll never know.