Half & Half
Half Good, & Half Bad
Clink, Clink, Clink
The spoon was set down, the coffee and half and half mixed. Watching it swirl, I contemplated about how we're all half and half, poured into the iridescent coffee of life to fend for ourselves.
We are each half a mother, half a father. Half good, and half bad. Sure, there are others that are truly evil, but something had to happen to them to make them like that. They were good once.
I bought the cup to my lips and took a sip.
And, also, the same goes for the good people. There's a tiny amount of evil in them too. If there wasn't, then they wouldn't understand the principle of good and evil. They wouldn't have a conscience telling them that they're doing something wrong and to stop.
They stop. Most people do.
You get traits from your father, traits from your mother. An equal amount of characteristics from both for you to be your own person. It is only until a parental figure does something that reminds you of something you do that you realize you inherited that movement, that compulsion, that mannerism, that trait, that something from them.
My lips curved upward into a small smile as I finished my coffee and continued looking out of the window, watching the snowflakes fall. I sighed, and my train of thought was slowing down, ready for a stop at the station.
Rinsing out my coffee cup, I placed it upside down on the counter, letting it dry. My father did that the same way.
The spoon was set down, the coffee and half and half mixed. Watching it swirl, I contemplated about how we're all half and half, poured into the iridescent coffee of life to fend for ourselves.
We are each half a mother, half a father. Half good, and half bad. Sure, there are others that are truly evil, but something had to happen to them to make them like that. They were good once.
I bought the cup to my lips and took a sip.
And, also, the same goes for the good people. There's a tiny amount of evil in them too. If there wasn't, then they wouldn't understand the principle of good and evil. They wouldn't have a conscience telling them that they're doing something wrong and to stop.
They stop. Most people do.
You get traits from your father, traits from your mother. An equal amount of characteristics from both for you to be your own person. It is only until a parental figure does something that reminds you of something you do that you realize you inherited that movement, that compulsion, that mannerism, that trait, that something from them.
My lips curved upward into a small smile as I finished my coffee and continued looking out of the window, watching the snowflakes fall. I sighed, and my train of thought was slowing down, ready for a stop at the station.
Rinsing out my coffee cup, I placed it upside down on the counter, letting it dry. My father did that the same way.
♠ ♠ ♠
Short drabble.C/C?