Rivers have their own steam that they worked hard to make, they started with one direction and kept moving in any way they felt that would make them a river. Rivers are strong, sometimes wrong, and even sometimes unorthodox in your mind of thought. Before your kind came to this land and decided to make your own stream, rivers that have been planted there for their whole lives, and then they get messed with. You broke their space of a home and changed their direction for your own life to progress. You thought there was a problem with the rivers, you thought there was something wrong with how it flowed and where it went. The rivers made streams so soft and peaceful, so you could swim and bathe in it just for your pleasure. It was a silent negotiation. This was a compromise that was made without a fuss, made without a last-minute thought. Soon you made bridges where you could have easily crossed, you made dams when the water wasn't out of place. You created such a large dent in how they flow they tried to just do what would make you happy. Soon they became angry and fast and not willing anymore. You messed with their own simple and just so you know, they're "only" happiness in life. Their streams became fast and wild that no one could swim and bathe or just relax. The rivers dug deep so you would drown and die without any second to try and leave. They pushed you away and yet you kept tampering with the rivers. They have given up on their own happiness they gave up because your kind thought there was a problem that needed to be fixed! You needed to fix something that wasn't there to be full to be meaningful. You instead broke something special to everything on this godforsaken ground that you call home! That you think is perfect, with smoke and your trails of garbage. Or you think it is so imperfect you look up one thing that you think is nothing and make it a problem. I..I.... I'm sorry that I'm being so rash and hard on you........but you....just broke something that was perfect and whole.
YOU ARE READING
The boy, the old man, and the forset
FantasyWhen the curiosity of a young boy gets the best of his words, an old man gets on his soapbox about the forest. No one goes in there, but somehow this old man has. He sits down and stammers onto a great tail of the wood. The first thing he speaks of...
