Silence

Like the unforgivable night,

Silence.

Like the dark thoughts running in my mind,

Silence.

Like the bone chilling cold,

Silence.

Like the last breath it stole,

Silence.

Like the last chance to survive,

Silence.

Like there is no other way to life,

Silence.

Why does everything have to be this way?

Silence.

Why can I not say what I want to say?

Silence.

Why do I have to change to fit in? 

Silence.

Why do I have to fight for freedom? 

Silence.

Why won’t I have a chance at happiness? 

Silence.

Why is is so difficult to feel less worthless? 

Advertisements

Filthy Rich

I finally understood what this phrase meant: filthy rich. I say so not from experience or a sudden change of luck. I understood from observation, from realisation. Not everything has to be understood by experience. Some things are more clearly explained through the art of observation. The rich become the rich by getting their hands dirty. Hands being a metaphor being everything they are to everything they believe in: their morals, the goals, their dreams, their beliefs, and most importantly, their pride. You’d think the rich pride themselves in being so rich and trust me, they do. I have seen them, I have observed them. But if you dig deeper in their pride, if you look at the source of their riches, you’ll find that they will most likely not be proud of what they have done to accumulate such wealth. No one gets rich by helping others help. That is not to say all rich people are bad. The rich has the ability to help the poor (if they choose to) but you’ll rarely find someone rich whose wealth was founded upon helping those in need. 

So where am I going with this? I once asked a closed relative of mine, “Which job will earn the greatest amount of money?”

Everybody dreams about being rich but we all have different reasons. I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to be rich but the truth is, I only want to be rich so I don’t have to think about money. I want to live comfortable enough that money is never a worry of mine. But if you ask me whether I want to be the richest of the richest, I probably couldn’t care less. 

Others want to be rich for different reasons. Rich brings many associative traits. The most common ones are power, fame, and luxury. 

I guess my reason fits under independence and luxury. Two things I’ve never really had in life. 

But would I damage my morals to reach these goals? That is, would I be willing to get my hands dirty? 

To be completely honest, I’m not quite so sure myself. I see how easy it is to make dirty money and it tempts me. I guess the devil would not have survived so long if it did not know how to tempt. And then I would tell myself that it is not worth ruining the morals I have upheld for so many decades. But being rich, even filthy rich is surely tempting…. 

Free me

You can’t control me,
Not when I want to be free.
You can disown me,
Go ahead and set me free.
You think you own me,
Because you can afford my living fee.
You can slap me and starve me,
But I’ll keep fighting to be free.
You can bind me and hurt me,
My mind will always be free.
You can try to destroy me,
But know that when I’m free,
I will hunt you and find you,
Until I pay my deed.
Just you wait and see,
When I break from these chains,
And set myself free,
You’d wish you had given me the key.