How are we made to be destroyed?
Do you understand, does anyone?
How can we know what’s not written out for us,
If we have no clue of suggestion?

How can we get to grips with the world,
If we don’t even know what the world really is.
It’s been disguised so many times.
No shameless chance of knowing what it’s really like.

Why would we come into this world,
With this life, if we weren't meant to have it anyway?
We get given stuff just so that it will get ripped away.
Shown things right in front of us,
Just so we know we cannot have.

I don’t understand how people could possibly be brought into life,
Then being made as a sacrifice.
People die, get killed, get tortured mentally, physically, emotionally and abused by their own minds.
How is this fair is any of this?
Tell me what is the point?

But we don’t know because we’re just simply humans,
Who can’t know any better.
We can’t come up with a conclusion,
That we have no way to know.

I'm not sure I was meant for this.
I'm sure I existed far too late.
It seems I came to be in the wrong time era,
and I assure you the wrongest wrong place.
I can hold my head high wherever,
but records and dusty movies are my friends,
they make me feel like I'm home at last;
make me wish the time never ends,
but it did and so forth,
I was not meant for here.
The people, too boastful,
with so much less to fear.
The relationships are wasteful,
and different by the day.
The love and optimism is fading out to grey.
I almost pity the people,
and I find their time more tragic,
while the era I love was suppressed by casual bombs,
the era I'm in has lost all their magic...

Her legs were determined to never tremble again,
Her breath was never shallow since that day,
She no more thought about her agonizing pain,
The price for someone’s cowardice, she would never pay.

The words unsaid, were no more hidden in her heart,
She spoke freely; her thoughts had gained wings,
A soul without fear, her spirit was ready for a new start,
She was at last, herself, a human, among other human beings.

Strings of hopelessness with which she was tied,
Were, by her soul’s fiery rage, torn,
That day, with sheer shame, a victim died,
With a new cry of vigour, a fighter was born.

I was born into a nation,
therefore my nationality is theirs.

But my parents originate from across the world,
And so my origin is theirs.

More importantly though,
All of our souls have the same home,
Till death,
from birth,
We've resided on Earth.

Did you know how small you are?
I sure didn't.
Does it bother you?

Wishing you well,
This Guy  ☞ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

I see stories in people's face
The elder lady
The younger teen
The middle aged married guy

All the happiness in their smile
The hard ache in their eyes
I have never walked in their shoes
Never heard their voice

Born to live
Heartaches seek pain
Worlds and hearts  apart
Don't cross the line

In the light I am born
And in the light I die
But somewhere in the dark
I see your face.


F.Z.**N