There you are—standing in silence, the blank look on your face betraying the storm inside. You stare through me as if I cannot hear the words rattling in your skull. In your eyes, I have seen rage, pain, struggle, fleeting sparks of love, glimmers of compassion—but above all, confusion. You are the decision without thought, the restless will, the unquenched need to be free. And yet, once freedom kissed your lips, you longed again for the cage.
I have seen you kneel before the altar of lust, worshipping its fleeting flame. I have felt the contempt you hold for humankind, the way you trample us small souls beneath your feet while straining to rise above, never reaching, never satisfied. The world handed you gifts you dreamed of, and still you were lost. You had no map for what to do once the wish was granted, no readiness for the sacrifice it demanded.
So you retreated, slinking back into old ways of comfort, fumbling with words that cut across conversations like a blade turned the wrong way. You stole moments that were never yours to take. You wore masks of happiness that cracked with every sigh, every hollow laugh. You spoke of faith while betraying it. You whispered of love while your heart was clenched in hate. You demanded respect while offering none. You expected loyalty while standing on the shards of your own betrayal.
You claimed leadership, but your eyes were blind, your strength a phantom that never came. Your hands could not hold sand. You asked for friendship when you were no friend at all. And when your house of cards collapsed, you turned to point your finger, shaking your head, blaming the very ground that carried you.
The chase ended. The thrill of your gossip dulled into echoes no one cared to hear. The selfish found their way back to the selfish. Your words bent always toward yourself, your mirror reflecting only lies. Even the dead could not escape your tongue, and when their curses coiled around your throat, you fell to your knees, begging to know why.
But there is no mercy waiting. Beyond you, in the clear light of day, lies a place reserved for the ones you forsook. Their peace builds walls of resilience where your shadow cannot linger. Because you had to be survived. And in survival, there is no love—only the echo of what might have been, carried away like dust through broken hands.
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