Every day, like a death toll, counting wings, clipped one by one, holding close, like clouds soar, raging on, the fires burn

After the rainy season ended, it felt like anger would brew and spill like lava but it was calm

Like looking over towards the horizon at the beach, while laying in the sand, soaking in the sun

It was quite as the fires subsided, with nothing but ash, yet something survived still or so I thought

We’re born into debt, we’re born into a sentence, to serve till the day we end.

And that’s how we invented hope, hope. Hope. Hope. I hear it ever so often from the mouths of those who believe.

I believe, or so I am made to think. Do I?

I fail. I was born to fail and I keep failing. I tell the truth of what I feel, the others call it kufr.

So, we all live a lie, collectively, consciously, lying to ourselves and others

Lie. Lie. Lie. Lie. Steal from others what doesn’t belong to you and call it fair, is what you do.

Avenge and burn the grounds around so nothing remains for you’re destined to lose. So lose everything anyway and let not them tell you “I told you so”.




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