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Showing posts from January, 2022

Depression

  When you reach rock-bottom, when your soul cries, Life stops vibrating; everything vivid in pain dies. Filthy dark entities knock at your door, You refuse to open, but they break in, causing mayhem. They enter your lizard brain, with no mercy at all. Now you're a slave to them; down on your knees, you crawl. “You’re not good enough, you’re a failure, you’re nobody.” These voices change your perception. The downfall begins. You want nothing, no one, anything but to lie down and sleep. You beg not to wake up; one more day alive hurts deep. Stuck in your own tiny space, thoughts of death quickly arise. You want to escape from yourself, the self you despise. You are afraid of being alive, but not of death. No one cares about you—alone until your last breath. Life becomes meaningless, love dies, you feel sick. You can’t take it anymore, stuck in this loop till you die. Mike Tragas 2022/01/20 Sweden, Stockholm

Divided. Again.

  History has repeated itself once more, and I have witnessed it all. They grew afraid of the limited human forces that threatened their survival. Instead of trusting themselves, they rushed to rely on soulless, evil fiends. They fell for their lies, were fooled, yet would never admit it. Fear led to cowardice, and thus surrender to the evil forces. They were promised freedom, but the promises hid greedy intentions. Despair was visible through their dangerous and piercing eyes. If you got carried away and agreed to inject their poison, it would paralyze you. The weakness of one man would envy the strength of another. Blame, greed, anger, and hate ignited a fire that could burn it all. They claimed to care, but arrogance had blinded them. Pathetic liars with no sense of empathy, they thought they were heroes. Brave humans were threatened with death if they didn't succumb immediately, But they didn’t give in to the madness; they fought for their freedom. Separation would bring an end

An Old Soul

The sacred consciousness of the projected starlight mirrors his soul. Cuddling the ethereal magnificence of a lifeless shadow, once alive on Earth. To him, it’s all familiar—the harmony of existence and the melody of his heartbeat. He’s been here before, seen it all, but there is no elixir for consciousness, he knows. Seasons come and go, and so does he, in different forms, shapes, and sizes. He loved women, and he loved men. He loved them all, for he was not always a man. Solitude reminds him of the old days of war, where he was a soldier. He killed and was killed with honor and respect, until his last breath. They asked him to share his story. He refused. They didn’t deserve to know then. Knowledge without experience turns one arrogant because fear is ever-present. Emotions are temporary. He has no need for them, knowing they make him weak. He observes souls trapped in madness and despair, but he knows there is nothing to do. They would call him crazy if he offered help, for they are