Photo by Wellington Cunha on Pexels.com

I ran from the moon,

for promises that couldn’t possibly be authentic

I honored vowes,

words fallen on ears not deaf yet listened not

I was there,

in a home with contrived assurance

I led an esteemed life,

one with contributions, sacrifices and venerated considerations

Acceptance of distorted realities doesn’t open one’s eyes to see,

it only blinds,

shapes the poor,

the tired

No sympathy required,

concerns such as these matters not

as they are trivial

And anything inconsequential is certainly nothing to be worried of,

so they say





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