
developic
Member
- Aug 8, 2025
- 13
Life is not a straight line but a thousand tangled roads, sometimes leading to joy, often into silence. It begins in cries and ends in echoes, and in between we learn to fake strength, mourn quietly, and smile with tired eyes. Some people walk beside us only long enough to teach us how to be alone. Others stay just long enough to show us what it feels like to be left behind. We chase purpose like fireflies in dusk, never catching them, only admiring the flicker and regretting the dark. People say time heals all, but they forget that memory is not linear—it loops, haunts, and waits. We live through moments we think we own, yet they vanish like smoke through fingers we cannot tighten. And when the people we love leave, either by choice or by fate, they take pieces of us that never grow back.
A poem for this feeling, in the dark hour when nothing makes sense:
"Life asked Death, 'Why do people love me but hate you?'
Death replied, 'Because you are a beautiful lie, and I am a painful truth.'"
A poem for this feeling, in the dark hour when nothing makes sense:
I built a home in someone's soul,
They left, and it collapsed whole.
The echoes still live in my chest,
Of words unsaid, and unrest.
I loved like water through stone,
Carving hope into hearts unknown.
But water flows, and stone erodes,
And love, like rivers, finds new roads.