23th June, 2020
I heard a cry. The grim of my world. What am I doing here? I see happy faces with a mask to conceal their melancholy. I am truly fascinated in the orderly chaos. A single drop of venom. A small spark of fire. A monolithic moment of underthinking. I see the world trembling apart. Beyond my beloved horizon, lies the elevator of true reason. I give myself the hope that I dread the most. After all, this is just a multiverse of vibrating possibilities. The water can stop now. The sea has long lost its salt. The womb in its solitude and confinement.
I found something. Could be a reminiscence of my past. Was it a path that I took? A loss, I grieve. I enrage. I suffer. I change. The crimson cry is never singular. A complete discombobulation of pure empathy. A spark of illumination amidst the depth of confusion. Everything shall pass. But the past dwells in the shadows of the present. We cannot deny that. Finding the ghosts of our past, is inevitable. The labyrinths of this society, making us wander in the streets of sanity. I thought we had it in the beginning, but we were merely walking on the nightmares of our old lives. We put on masks to deceive someone. I don’t see the point in putting on a mask to conceal a face that is already deceiving something. Here we are living on and on to rot away in the ruins of our conceptions. Finding bugs in the system is inescapable. We just live on the edge of tomorrow. Finding hopes in our desperation is substantial. Until the crimson cry ends, we cease to exist. We shall live to that.