The human soul
Dies a thousand deaths
When courage departs
Leaving behind a deserted land
Desecrated by human follies
Littered with the corpses of undead desires
Rearing their serpent heads
Waiting to strike
Where the armour is weakest
Slithering through crevices
The eternal conflict
A war within
When hopes are dashed
Morals on a collision course
With unrequited wants
Festering and boiling over
Dissension hand in hand with deception
A conflict of mammoth proportions
My conscience hold the mirror of courage
To show me the ugly face
Of what I have become
My inner conflict unreined
By the discerning voice of empathy
That cares not to distinguish between mine and thine
Bio
Seema
Words are a doorway to magical worlds. They open our minds and give wings to our thoughts. They have the power to alter the course of our lives and the fate of millions to bring forth unimaginable goodness and untold horrors. Although my musings are not this magnanimous, they provide me a sense of contentment most of the time but also leave me sleepless when I see humanity floundering. I am an undying believer in the goodness of all, despite actions to the contrary. I am blessed to have a roof over my head, food on the table, a loving family and encouraging mentors that have supported my various personal endeavours including writing.
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