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…
Ah, I pen these lines for my own reflection.
