Survival isn't ours

I

A fleeting glimpse into this world,

Where day wears the face of night,

And night mimics the sun’s bright guise—

A city’s mirage, ever shifting.

But oh, this place is not my home.


II

Voices gather, calling me fortunate,

They say to exist is a blessing.

Yet I thread my thoughts like a silent song,

Winding through the viper’s gut—

A gift adrift, unseen, unsung.


III

Life dances wild in reckless grace,

A rise, a fall, a dizzying pace.

And in the end,

Even the fiercest hearts may break—

For Survival spares not even the strongest.

.

- Fearless Lines

©2024



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