Truth

 The words we withhold will become our undoing, while the truths we courageously speak will be our salvation.



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Survival isn't ours

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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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I Have you ever felt like a paper bag? Drifting through the claws of the wind, Like a tattered kite, Moving from its end to its beginning. II Have you ever felt like a strand line on a paper sheet? Whose purpose is to separate the margins. Have you ever felt like a house built with of sand, And with a breeze all becomes sand beneath the feet of men. III Have you ever felt like a living being with no purpose? Or like a dead with no hope? Six feet under with screams and wails, And no one seems to hear a thing. IV Have you ever felt like a living-dead, or a zombie? Having no clues but to destroy. Have you ever felt like a human with the precision of a machine? Like a robot! All for the satisfaction and purpose of another man. V You don't have to feel like an old wine in a new bottle, Like all doors are closed, knowing not one leads to the perfect road. Your very nature is bliss, like a lightening bolt your heart will glow. VI After a hurricane comes a rainbow, When your time is set yo...
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