If worlds were windows, people would peer,
If life were clay, they'd shape it clear.
If money were seeds, they'd plant with care,
Growing all they’d need to know and bear.
How will I turn out? What will I be?
My desires pull at things unfree—
To shape, to clutch all within my hold,
Escaping want, escaping the cold.
To dominate and conquer heights,
To chase a self that feels just right.
Maybe if I'm bold, or maybe if I'm cruel,
The world might spare me the bitter duel—
With fate at peak, and people prime,
Driven by the hunger, the climbing climb.
That thirst within, that unrelenting drive
That makes us kill just to stay alive
Human nature, a beast unbound,
In its shadow, hope lies drowned.
About the Creator
Chisom
I am a writer of raw emotions and dark reflections, I explore trauma and self-worth through poetry and storytelling. Subscribe for thougt-provoking content that resonates and inspires.
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