Aren't one just too old already to be faith relapsing when they have
built this delicate thing over and over again, in such long span of two decades time.
I do not intend that to be a question, but the start of my statement
is an open door of curiosity, wanting to peek my head out my home door
and look around, and find out
if anyone else is still building this delicate as hell
of a structure as I am right now.
One night, one bed with beads of tasbeeh and beads of tears.
It might be the case that I like the beach so much that I am building
a fragile bone home just alongside a metaphorical one.
I could see the horizon eating up the Sun every moment day melt night.
A charlatan knows best when it sees a sceptic narcissist overestimating
what and who they are.
It takes one to know one.
They think people anticipate them because they are a trophy.
A shiny, shiny trophy that they are a part of in the creation.
No one knows how disgusted that mediocre trophy is to have traces of such
rotten bits in it.
Being aware where your roots connect itself to the dirt.
The things they parade about the most, is none of the do-er's pride.
It's just a hollow form of an empty shell.
Careful, if you pull too much, I might just become an enemy.
You don't want that.
I don't care what you want or don't want.
Learn and unlearn what all this threshold really is in its actual possibilities of occurring.
All I'm saying is that if you draw blood, I am capable of drawing sword,
press it neat upon your neck
and let you see how much of your pride could bleed by my hands
without blood
if you hurt the people I love, in my presence.
