Literature
Daily Despair
The night drapes over me, a shroud as dark as a vanquished spirit. My head, heavy, bows under the weight of sorrow, Visions of this world's relentless terrors etched deep within the folds of thought. Will this shadow ever lift? Can we turn a blind eye? Dreams of honor, courage, and purity plunge into an abyss, buried beneath concrete and earth. My heart, weary from the struggle, pulses with a tormenting rhythm. A glimpse of lives once carefree, dancing in ignorance or indifference to the looming storms, under ominous clouds pregnant with fury. When the final flame flickers out, who will stand to bear witness? Maybe, just maybe, a tender rain will fall, rousing us from our stupor, washing away the grime of yesteryears.