My Kind of Fish

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Stop , you don't know me, you don't know my kind of people. The kind of people that will take you under their wing and take you to the nest, just so you can find your own way down. The kind of people that will leave you on the side of the road at the night just to see can you find your own way home. The kind of people who will buy you a fish just to kill it the next day so you can experience death, then buy you another fish and kill that one as well to teach you that everyone you get close to will not always be there. My kind of people are the ones that take you upstairs bring you down and tell you to find your way back up. The kind of people that show you guidance and lessons than persuasion and desperation. Too many people are given a fish each day just so that person won't see it die. Too many people are blindsided from the actual world, like a person seeing a piano falling towards them but won't move, or a man jumping off a building wondering will he die. But my kind of people won't sugar coat it. If you need a shoulder to lay on, my kind of people will give a pillow, and say goodnight , feel better in the morning, because that shoulder won't always be there when you need to lay your head somewhere, that grandma won't always be in the back room watching tv, always be in the kitchen cooking, that granddad won't always be the handy man, sometimes he'll be the one in the hospital bed, with tubes in and out of his body. Grandma will be that lady that can't remember what she just ate, the one that can't remember where the bathroom is. That fish won't always be in that bowl when you get home from school.
 






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