What?
What are you searching for?
What do you live for?
What do you think is important for you?
Lost
Lost in what is important
Lost in this illusion we ourselves created
Lost in these things that really matter
We chase the vain just to end up...
Lost
Lost
Turning everything into a competition
Making everything a versus
Making it look like a do or die affair
Trying so much that we lose our way and end up...
Lost
Lost
Thinking we know what we want
Thinking we have life all figured out
Thinking that golden chains and award cup makes us Us
Thinking that money would drive out sorrow
Thinking that money brings smiles
Money acquired births money desire
The unsatisfactory impulse of man
In everything, in this whirlpool of psychological warfare
We all thinking we are against each other
Till death knocks and collects what is his
Thus we realise, all these years, we were...
Lost
About the Creator
Harydo Neon
I drain my thoughts through my pen. That's the only way I breathe.
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Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munson3 days ago in Fiction
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