and to not understand that longing is not limited to man
is the bringer of true sorrow.
and there was a sun inside me
but now shadows are all i am.
and he was told: “this is your world now.”
and purpose breathed its last breath.
and the heart knows that this is not the world. and because it knows,
and yet even though one does not hear it, hope gives away a sigh.
when i dies.
let grass grow on the killing fields that exist for our appetite.
if only your hearts would dominate over your stomachs.
see yourself. in them.
these bars imprison their souls, do not be their keeper.
what defines “culture”?
if distance is your excuse, reconsider.
the exploited exploiting.
alone he wanders, an infant in a heartless world.
may your heart break so that you stop accepting. may you turn your pain into will.