
A sentiment is what's beholden, folded cards stuffed into a frame-broken.
How insensitive could vanity grow when a stage hasn't set a show?
Preemptive, he set his heart to forgive, yet blood-soaked dreams stirred a distraction in his waking life.
A value he set in stone crushed his hope, and his heart mirrored gravel with his pride trampled on, a dig at his humility.
A purchase won't claim victory, or that's what wisdom says, appealing to morality.
A desire without satiety seeks loopholes sinisterly by the temptress that is the world to the flesh.
Must I? Endure? Repeatedly? And breathe in and breathe out until death?!
Masquerades and charades? " Was I meant for the stage? " A coward in calm calls to me while-
Wisdom says, " Release your thoughts from your feet, take a step, and be brave. "
I'll listen to wisdom since pride can't save me.
About the Creator
OneWithPen
I write fiction and poetry focused on inner conflict, fractured relationships, and the quiet moments where people confront who they are. Read at your own pace. Stay if something resonates.


Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.