There is a difference between sitting straight with the support of a wall

And with an upright spine without any effort from the unconvincing world

Numerous journies that are nameless and takes a detour through illusions

A flickering reality is thought to be the only source of light for this journey

Worries connect, communicate, and calculate the length of the paths

That is wound around the realities like a thick rope to hold a forbidden door

Shallow breathing, unconvincing nature of love, motives covered with spots

Blots of hell on the taut canvas rarely filter those inimical energies of existence



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