Death is a thief while life is a lie. Love is a game and mistakes are how we learn; pain is used to mould the strong and separate them from the weak. The man that covers himself under a cloth of loneliness is a man that shields his heart. A man that unravels himself to the world knows what it is to be demolished by the iniquity of it all. Faith is written in the heavenly tabloids of God and destiny is determined by every faithful breath.

Every second of every day a man takes his final breath, a baby is born, a woman is abused. The world we call ‘home’ has proven to be a breeding ground for the scum of eternity and it has proven that the man that pulls wool over his eyes to see the luscious riches of the globe, this is the man that will succumb to the evils of this life. When a hiker is lost, he uses a compass, but where is the compass when the world he calls ‘home’ is in turmoil and it falls apart piece by piece, country by country? What good is guidance when your world has been badgered by every area of your life, and the road you take leads you down a path of destruction, pain, suffering and turmoil? Every step you take reminds you of the pain of your past where every moment is filled with doubt and despair.

I scream out for help, but no one gives a helping hand. I cry out for someone to save me, but my voice is muffled by the hands of my past that throttle me. The scars on my back serve as a reminder of the pain of my horrific past, which reminds me of the distance I have come since the journey started, journey called life.

People often look at the smile and believe there is no pain, these are people that wear wool over their eyes to see the prosperity of the world and shield themselves from the truth. The truth is something that people often shy away from to preserve their innocence in the world, but for how long can one hide, hide from the truth and reality of it all?

How long are you willing to live a lie to appease the thing that beats in your chest? Some men lose it during their journey, and some men fill that void. Some men live a life on the edge with nothing, nothing but themselves and the iniquity of the world. Very few men recover, whilst many fall victim to the vanity of the world. People use vague words such as ‘pain’ or ‘hurt’, but to describe a man’s life that has been through so much, such words become preposterous when compared to the reality.

When one’s world crumbles, like breadcrumbs, the owner cannot prevent it, as the sand in an hourglass, once turned over, cannot be caught, as it would slip through your fingers like your life through your hands. Oh, how ironic, we take life for granted and shame and damn it, but when life makes a mockery of us, how quickly infuriated we get.

When the weight of the world is too much to bear, and no one hears the muffled cries of the widow, what are we to call ourselves humans? A question often not asked, but always wondered, a question that burns brighter than the gates of hell, but one that is often ignored, outshone by the iniquity of the world.

The mark of my past edged into my neck serves as a reminder of those who are captured. It reminds me of who or what is in control. It reminds me that, no matter how far I run, I will never be free. Free, what is being free? I have been captured for so many years, being free is like a distant thought, one that fades away whenever I try to reconnect. People call us cold-hearted, but do you know my story, do you know the life I led? Who are you to discriminate if you have not the slightest idea of the pain I endured during my journey? Journey, life, suffering, what is the difference between living and dying if getting up every morning evokes the feeling of wanting to die again and again? What is the difference between life and suffering if your life is full of pain and misery?

Why do you choose to cry over people that leave you, why do you choose to cry over people that hurt you, why do you choose to cry over people that use and abuse you? Why shed tears for people that do not see, choose not to see, or blatantly do not care? Why do we question ourselves, why do we have to choose, why do we feel the need to cry over someone that leaves? When someone leaves, they do not just leave a gap in your life, they do not just leave a void in your heart, when someone leaves they take a piece of you along with them. In the end, when all the pieces are taken, we are left to fill those empty spaces.

Oh, how I envy the heartless, for they know no pain, how I adore the stone-hearted, for they endure no pain. You mocked my accent, you adored my demise, you laughed at my journey then you want to cry at my funeral. Cry for what, the pain I endured, the suffering that dehumanised me? Why cry for me when I am gone if you never did it when I was alive? Yet you call me the hypocrite. You shed tears for me when I enter my eternal slumber, but when I was alive you shed rings of fire upon my life. Do not cry for me when I am gone because I do not see your tears, smile that I made a difference before I left.


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