Life
Life is getting unbearable,
Getting used to it in the process,
To escape is unthinkable,
It will make you think that you're in a land of eerie beauties.
Where shadows whisper ancient tales,
And light bends into crooked trails,
The sky a canvas of quiet despair,
Yet something pulls you, keeps you there.
The weight of days, heavy like stone,
Yet strangely, you never feel alone,
In every ache, a hidden grace,
In every tear, a sacred space.
Perhaps it’s in the suffering's art,
That we find the beating of the heart.
Unbearable, yet we remain,
For beauty is woven through the pain.
© All Rights Reserved
Getting used to it in the process,
To escape is unthinkable,
It will make you think that you're in a land of eerie beauties.
Where shadows whisper ancient tales,
And light bends into crooked trails,
The sky a canvas of quiet despair,
Yet something pulls you, keeps you there.
The weight of days, heavy like stone,
Yet strangely, you never feel alone,
In every ache, a hidden grace,
In every tear, a sacred space.
Perhaps it’s in the suffering's art,
That we find the beating of the heart.
Unbearable, yet we remain,
For beauty is woven through the pain.
© All Rights Reserved