55 days, few hours and minutes. I’ve been
alive for 20 years, but I have just breathe my first. Heart is a fickle thing,
no man knows it for its entirety, yet many boast to be able to understand other’s.
human lie about things they feel. In fact, humans lie about mostly everything. How
hard is it to tell people a string of word that is not. How hard it is to make
people hate you, to make you hate them. How much lies and deceit one must do to
be able to lie to themselves, as they did to others.
I am no liar, but that is what a liar
always say. I am no sage, nor am I a holy man. I am but a humble soul
withstanding, waiting, hoping, seeking for the truth. Those which are not told
by humans, those that sparked war, hatred, tears, and agony, and those that
make people smile and hope for nothing. I have discovered and is convinced,
that there is simply too much lies in this world, that there is no other way to
discover truth other than laying aside all lies that exist.
I am no monster, but that is how the
monster convinces it preys. The monster preys on the weak and the hopeful,
feeding them vague dreams and fake feelings, only to ripen their meal. Because regardless
of who is on which side of the table, those who sit on the chair needs to live.
They need to survive because it is what they call the law of nature. Monster lurks,
devour, and eat, because they have hope. Maybe it’s not on themselves, not
their own future, not even their younglings, but something. Every living
creature decided to live for another they for this hope they hold, that latches
on to nothing.
I am no lion, but I have my own pride. The pride
built upon mountains of bodies, stairs of those whose dignity have been
trampled on. For pride is yet another monster that needs to be fed. They act
boastful, seemingly dressed in gold to mock its foes and allies. But all that
glitter blinds. And in their attempt to protect things important to them, it
shall perish and fall right at its feet. For an empire that is covered in gold
and shine of glitters, darkness lurks beneath its shadow, slowly eating, feasting
on its people until none left but carcasses and a statue from its own days of
glory
This has been a poem, an elegy, an
obituary. This has been a reminder of the side people strive to forget, that
some always fears. The dark that spews out of people’s entire being, that which
is acknowledged, but left alone. A rust, for which no men is willing to remove.
A call, that no men heeded
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