An artful explosions of words are often a reverberation of our soulful moments. But, if silence speaks louder than words, death shall better know the darkest truths buried inside the realms of lies and behind the facades of “all right.”
If walls could talk, they probably wouldn’t keep the sobs they heard at night and cries they witnessed in secret.
How do I laugh when a hundred bits of the forbidden fruit are stuck in between my teeth and that the warlord in me died like a little dove caught within the grip of a furious fire?
Like a plant, watered with herbicides, and left to thrive, or to journey along the path that has no end. Or, like a soldier ant, master in the kingdom, protector of the realm, dragged shamefully in a bowl of kero, and left to rise like before, or go down the lane of death. Such, and more toxic was the Eve that guided me to the tree of knowledge and left me to stare at the forbidden fruits. To pluck and eat, or to run for dear life? But, how do I run, and to where, when I do not know the way from which I came, and how I, alone, stare at the end placed before me?
What kind of fruit is this? eaten, yet there isn’t any opening of eyes?
Tell Eve, I’m no better than Adam, one who ate the fruit. For, I ate the fruit and the seeds inside it. And, I, alone, slide slowly into the darkness that awaits.

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