and life is a strange one
we get betrayed by our closest
whose hearts we we hold to our chests
then we harden our hearts with walls
and point the devil within the world
the accusing finger points at everyone,
push away those who never hurt us
.
isn’t it curious?
what life makes us to be,
sitting alone at night
with a searing feel in our chests
that confirms all our black musings,
whether they be right or wrong?
Faiza 