Saturday, January 10, 2015


The tongue is still
No words can come
When you beckon for the truth
You failed to give
It is an almost unbearable burden to live in an imperfect world that has made us believe in the ideal. Maybe I do wish I could go back to being younger. Yes, it was a time of innocent problems and ignorance but at least we had the naive hope of finding perfection. It is a desperate moment knowing we are never going to be the glamorous image we once had of ourselves, knowing the people around us are just as flawed as we are. Perhaps I am looking in all the wrong places. This temporary world, this fleeting life, were never meant for the dreams in our hearts. Maybe we've been wanting so much to see heaven that we thought there was a chance of it being found if we tried hard enough. There is nothing here but death. There is nothing here except a dwindling desire for salvation earned through years of pining and hunger.