How tragic is it?

We all yearn for the same thing

Love.

Yet we fail to offer it.

Not to others. Not even to ourselves.

We’re all hurting for the same reason.

Our desires are identical.

But we choose to endure the pain

and let those around us suffer as well.

We hold back love,

then lament that we never receive it.

How tragic.

Everyone defines love differently.

But at its essence

we all crave the same thing.

Yet we’re molded to believe in varying forms of it.

And now,

we neither know how to give it

nor how to accept it.

How tragic.

We fail to find love

in our own homes,

in our own circles.

So we search for it

in strangers,

in fleeting encounters,

in harmful places.

How tragic.

We live in a breathtaking world,

yet we seek beauty

in someone’s thoughts,

in a verse of poetry,

in the pages of a book.

We discover love

only in ink and paper,

and the more we uncover it there,

the more it pains us.

Every day.

With every passing moment.

How tragic.

We lack the one thing

we need most

the very thing

that defines

our humanity.

How pathetic is it?
We all long for the same thing
Love.
Yet we don’t give it.
Not to each other. Not even to ourselves.

We’re all suffering for the same reason.
Our needs are the same.
But we choose to suffer
and let those around us suffer too.

We withhold love,
then complain that we never receive it.
How pathetic.

Everyone has their own definition of love.
But at the core—
we all want the same thing.
Still, we’re shaped to believe in different forms of it.
So now,
we neither receive it
nor know how to give it.
How pathetic.

We don’t find love
in our own homes,
in our own circles.
So we search for it
in strangers,
in fleeting moments,
in unhealthy places.

How pathetic.

We live in a beautiful world,
yet we search for beauty
in someone’s mind,
in a line of poetry,
in the pages of a book.

We only find love
in ink and paper
and the more we find it there,
the more we ache.
Every day.
Each passing day.

How pathetic.

We don’t have the one thing
we need the most
the very thing
that makes us
human.

As if sweet Eve ate

the apple and handed over --


the core to Adam?

You are superior to 𝘸𝘩𝘰?
I am no one's inferior,
And if someone has differing conjecture;
Congratulations, I believe you!
Clearly, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 are less than 𝘮𝘦.