No one knows his pain. Yet he feels their judgemental stares like daggers aimed for his jugular. Everyone has a finger to point, but not a hand to lift him up. This, the collective nuisance of humanity; To view the sufferings of others as the gauge to success and happiness, totally impervious to the needs and wants of others. Until that is, we become as those we so heartily disdain. Then and only then, do we portend to herald human suffering, as we implore others to be seen, a hand up, or even a nickel perhaps to make a dollar to buy a loaf of bread. For no one knows his pain, better than he.
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Fallen Stars
PoetryA collection of poetry, prose, brevity, musings, writings and chaotic scribbling from dachaoticmind.
