We appear to love as captives, shackled by the relentless whispers of our hearts. The places we seek solace may very well be our final resting spots; our beds could transform into our tombs. We exist only as long as He allows, wrapped in blessings and gifts, while you continue to frolic in this world, surrendering yourself to become its plaything.
And still, you laugh—gasping for air, straying down a treacherous path, while within, you weep silently; suffocating as you struggle for breath… a twisted obsession of despaired wet dreams.
Tell me, in our yearning for mercy, why does it elude us – for the mercy we long for, why doesn’t our own exist?
To worship life, sadly means learning how to laugh at your worth. You present yourself as a lump of sugar, yet your thoughts are like a lump of coal, consuming you as you stare into the glow of your phone…