How hard is it to kill a person? The window is open. I could see the sun folding into the trees, slow and indifferent. Iron bars—white, knitted like a cage—holding me in place. Outside, a bald, sweating man pretends urgency on a phone call. Inside, she talks. She is really talking. I look at her. Her eyes—dull. Not empty. Just… unused. Long eyelashes trying too hard to convince you otherwise. She smiles, but it doesn’t arrive where it should. It dies halfway to her eyes. There’s a small cut above her left eye. Her nose is sharp enough to have made it. Light maroon top. Red lipstick—almost matching. Almost convincing. But her lips betray her. Pale beneath the effort. Cute? Beautiful? I try to decide. I fail. She asks something. I don’t hear it. No—that’s not true. I hear every word. I just refuse to let them land. Because she is standing there—alive, speaking, existing—and yet, nothing in her feels alive. So I play along. I nod. I laugh when she laughs. Her smile widens. litt...
There was a ray of light, Once shined bright as the lamp post of dead night. Forever it said, it will shine, walk through the path to the final shrine, I walked, i fell, i crawled, i fainted, I opened my eyes and i still waited, The light forgot my eyes, Took a turn and went for skies, I was promised forever, but it is beyond forever where my soul flies