Skip to main content

The Ways of the World

 I am not perfect.

Never said I am,
never will.
But lately, I've been heartbroken—
by people who turned out to be
who they weren’t.

Even if the betrayal wasn’t directed at me,
it still hurts.
Because when you live in a world
where you can trust so few people,
and when you decide to trust them—
they do things behind your loved ones' backs,
biting the hand that feeds them.
And the worst part is,
the person knows exactly what they are doing.

The disloyalty breaks my heart.
I hate disloyal people.

I am not a perfect person.
I never claimed to be,
I never will.
But why are people so horrible?

Am I naive?
Or is this something I’ve grown used to, deep down?

Because I never want to betray the people I love. Ever.

How can people hurt the ones who love and cherish them?
How can they do that?
Mistakes are mistakes—
and I, myself, am no saint.
But how can people be so horrible?
That stays in my mind.

I am not a naive person.
I, too, am someone who has done horrible things
to the people I love.
But alas!
I get a little more devastated by the world
the more I grow up.

With every new person,
the cycle welcomes everything:
loyalty and betrayal,
happiness and sadness,
fulfillment and emptiness.

The more I grow up,
the less I feel the need to make friends.

I act like it doesn’t bother me,
but deep down, I know—
the ways of the world
have exhausted me immensely.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

And So, I Rise

Oceans and Engines The world becomes brighter as I push myself to crawl out of the abysmal circle I once willingly let myself plunder into. My eyes, once dim, now grow curious and vibrant— a smile finds my lips as I breathe in the crisp, forgiving air. The labyrinth I never willed myself to leave begins to fade behind me, its walls crumbling slowly, steadily, as I inch forward. My crimes—cleansed. My pain—quieted. My sins—released. I become light again, free and agile. My wounds remain, but they remind me I have loved with all I had. With a bruised soul and a battered body, I gave and gave, surrendering all that I wanted for myself. And I loved— oh, how I loved. I loved so fiercely that I willed myself to disappear in it. I lost my way, knowingly, for a yearning that never quite returned to me. I walked and worked for decades, hoping and hoping— until one day, I simply stopped. And then, I saw myself. Not the self I longed for others to see— but me...
Post a Comment
Read more

What One Could Do For Love

Nessa - die first Like Clytie longing for Apollo, I would follow you— in heart, in mind— like the sunflower chasing its sun. Like Psyche loving Cupid, I would love you without question, crossing the river Styx just to reach you. Perhaps Heracles’ love was blind— but for you, beloved, I would ruin myself without regret. You, the Helen to my Menelaus— I would wage a thousand wars for you, even if the Gods turned their faces away. Like Tlingi waiting for her Ngama, for you, my moonflower, I would sink into delusion and wait, and wait, until death gently calls my name. For you, my love— just for you.
Post a Comment
Read more

Savior: The Moment I Am

My love— the moment I fell into the abysmal agony of the labyrinth, it was my own soul that pulled me from the horrors woven deep within. My love— the moment I pierced my skin out of fear, out of the restless pits of self-desecration, it was my own mechanism that threw the blade away and kept the skin intact. My love— the moment I wailed into the hollow night, it was my own lullaby that wrapped around me and sang me to sleep. My love— the moment I couldn’t escape the torture of demons nestled in my slumber, it was my own arms that woke me gently, and spooned me back into serenity. My love— the moment I tried to flee the horrendous asylum of this life, it was my own voice that whispered through the chaos and rendered me calm. And you, who is my love— the moment you are not there, I am.
Post a Comment
Read more