Imagine when there was a day where you went to the wet-market to get some fruits. Due to a moment of indolent, you did not pick the fruits yourself and allowed the stallholder to take the job for you. When you reached home, you realised that half of all the fruits you bought were all rotten on the outside. Hopeful of the other half, you cut them and found out that the core is rotten as well. By now, most must have been ranting off their bloody mouth cursing and swearing at the stall-holder.
Did you ever try and find out who's fault is it exactly before pin-pointing the blame? Or isit our human nature to shirk all our own responsibility and escape scott free psychologically? Did anyone think through the process of whose fault is it in the first place? Even if you did that, do you have the courage to admit that it was your own fault?
So is the rotten core actually refers to us humans? We look perfectly allright on the outside but what is exactly inside? Just a damn bag of bones inside which inculcates fear.
Another moral of this story is that, never understand a person too well, or else, ur relationship might sour.
"if someone loves you,
love them back not only because they love you,
but also because they are teaching you to love and opening your heart and eyes
to things you have never seen or felt without them."
(ripped from solasura-honz)
As you envelope my mind,
thoughts are all about you.
I hope that you could walk into the ghost of me.
My heart have been delievered to your doorstep, do you accept this mail?
Could you pull out some time for me
and give both of us a chance to be together.
Waiting isn't a problem,
losing you would be the biggest trauma I would get.
May this day where our hearts bond together come soon.
Love is patient and kind; it is not jealous or conceited or proud; love is not ill-mannered or selfish or irritable; love does not keep a record of wrongs; love is not happy with evil, but is happy with the truth. Love never gives up; and its faith, hope and patience never fail. Love is eternal.
A recollection of poetry
"Twilight funeral"
Blackened and cold is the dusk
A veil where the shadows watch
Behind the dim requiems of light
When blindness envelopes our eyes
Silent and unholy is the dusk
A hole where the demons smirk
Beyond the clutters of human life
When deafness embraces our ears
Sable nothingness is the dusk
A shroud where the ravens flock
Tainting the purity of white clouds
When darkness devours our hearts
Inevitable death is the dusk
A cloak where the daggers hide
Under the facade of tranquility
When mortality is but a quip
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