Memories
like clouds of hatred,
pregnant, heavy
with a storm.
Life
can be a cruel prankster,
smiling bully,
petty thief.
Hurting
every single morning
tears slowly
welling up.
Time
is not a mercy healer -
sanity is
but a choice.
Whispers,
words from cryptic verses,
spell the future
of the world.
Is the life’s
entire structure
built with blocks
of paradox?
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