Strange people pass
The village unyielding
Staring at their visage
What filth unappealing
Gawk at their misfortune
They continue to do
Until all of them moved
What ever shall we do?
For as the strangers were gone
Their own misfortune they were reminded
Back at their own existence
Their lives were unwinded
We rarely gawk at the strangers no more
Their appearance no longer interesting
Their complexion grown too sore
How do they live with such marks?
The villagers wondered
Such unending filth attached to their skin
At the streets yonder
Yet once the strangers were gone the villagers did not cheer
Hoping the strangers to return
Their own misfortune
They did not jeer
Gloves came off
Hands start to flail
I could hear him cry
But I was set to stay
For as my hands struck his mind
No life could be receipted
I’m in trouble now
My fists deadly
As a venomous mouth
Wind so heavy
And so out of bounce
It ravage the fields
And the trenches it touched
But my spirits It can’t blow away
For when the time comes
I’ll have my sortie
With vengeance in mind
Fear is the creator of meaning
An emotion ascending comprehension
For it is when we are fearful
That we are most alive
*
The fear of mortality
The fear for the future
All the same
However, we do not let fear bound us
Daze us into indecision
Take a chance today
So that we may one day not fear tomorrow
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The gods care about mortals
Not because of benevolence
Nor any sense of responsibility
No, it is envy that drives them
The limitations of the mortal
It is our greatest weakness
As well as our greatest strength
For what meaning is there in existing
When your life is endless?
When there is nothing you can’t do under the heavens?
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Myths are tales that which could never happen
About people which feats could never be
Yet we nourish these stories
It reminds us of things that are possible
When mere men ascend to godhood
Peaking the interest of the deity
And their wrath along with it.
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Time, what does it do to us?
Making us into strangers to our current selves
For the crossroads that we reach
And the decisions that we make
Is what defines us.
Are we weak?
Or are we strong?
That is what “they” want to know
“They” who creates our path
We, the subject to their whims
Pawns at their leisure
Or part of something bigger?
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Whatever be the case, we may have more control than we realise
For whoever heard of great things coming to those who’d given up?
The universe favours those who become better than they once were
Therefore, mistakes are not something that happens
But are given to us as gifts so that we may prove our metal
Show that we are deserving of the things that we have
Of things to come
Hence, we look forward to the future at our darkest time
For the future is ahead of us
Dangerous and random
Nobody is safe from the scales of fate
As the future is equal to all
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Silence is nothing
Sounds are everywhere
You cannot escape their chatter
Their shrieks
For they do not know what silence entails
They fear it
Being alone with their troubled thoughts
Calmness
And serenity
Something alien
Fantasy and imagination
I want to stay
But friends wants to grow up
And I can’t find a way
Their youth inappropriate
Yet they grow up all the same
Fantasy I want to remain
Why won’t you do the same?
The Horrors of Writing 