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295 · Dec 2024
Escape
Vince Dec 2024
Humanity is blessed by the arts.
Drama, painting, drawing, music, writing—
all at our disposal to escape life,
to force
everything to the
back
of our minds
and only focus on what our
eyes
and
ears
receive, even if only for a few
minutes.
248 · Dec 2024
Rotting Apples
Vince Dec 2024
People can be described as
rotting apples.
You’ll never see just how rotten they are until it’s too late,
when the polished surface of the apple becomes shrivelled and unsightly—
making its presence more than known, with a terrifying
lack of
shame.
124 · Dec 2024
Irony
Vince Dec 2024
The sun is a passive-aggressive entity. It burns you if you stay too long, blinds you if you gaze excessively. But who cares? It’s the sun—bright and happy. So let it burn us.

But let’s hate the moon. The moon that brings darkness—the same darkness that births our light. Let’s hate it for being so gentle, for looking back when we stare, perhaps granting us a faint smile if we’re lucky. Let’s hate the one thing that never hurts us, the one that guides the seas and keeps the Earth‘s beings alive.

Instead, let’s love the sun. Love what scorches our skin, sets fire to our land, and dries our soil. Love the one that siphons away our water and kills our animals. Because who cares? It’s bright and happy, and that happens to be enough for the fickle human mind.

The moon offered us stillness, an all too accessible way to see the calm of the earth and find reconciliation in its quiet. Yet, we took to despising it for years. Now only the sun is heeded and granted glory. When the two meet their end, only the sun will be mourned—with an array of flowers by its grave, given by the followers it corrupted.

We say the sun and moon go hand in hand, but that’s a lie. It’s more like a collar and leash. The sun drags the moon around, a pet for us to fear will bite. When really, the real villain is the sun—a tyrant hiding behind its radiant mask, banishing the darkness the moon presents us. A darkness that is its finest gift. A blessing.

And then, there’s the rain. It died, and no one cared. “Get rid of the rain!” they said. An abomination. But without rain, where would our plants be? Without rain, the sun would wither and scorch them all. Nothing but defenceless aspects of our Earth the sun yearns to destroy. The rain never pretended to be anything but raw. It knew its flaws, but still, it never hid. It revealed its ugliness to nurture us, happiest when we stayed beside it, happier still when we relished its embrace. The rain is a forgotten saviour, fighting to keep us alive while the sun murders us in paradise.
89 · Dec 2024
Untitled
Vince Dec 2024
“Some birds were never meant to be in cages, never meant to be controlled by another. Eventually, it killed them. Their colour was stripped from their feathers, looking all the same, with broken voices, acting all the same.”
81 · Dec 2024
We are not humans
Vince Dec 2024
Everyone is an alien, a creature, a thing. No one would say it’s true, but it just is and that’s fact. We consider what does not look like us, act like us, or sound like us as the term ‚alien‘. But to those ‚aliens‘ we are also the same. We simply gave ourselves what is now the name ‚Humans‘ because it sounds much more sophisticated than ‚thing‘ ‚being‘ or ‚creature‘, said so much that it’s only natural now. Through the eyes of another being, we are not humans. We are aliens. Identity is created by the being, not by nature.
71 · Dec 2024
Inanimate Comfort
Vince Dec 2024
Why do I find more
comfort
in the pen in my hand
and the tear stained paper before my eyes than real
people?
Real people with
mouths to comfort,
and empathy they
choose
not to use.
Why is it that
inanimate objects
have far more sympathy
than them?
Why does ink hold my hand,
but a person
won’t?

— The End —