Skeptic

Why do we try holding on to words

As invisible as ghosts slipping through fingers,

Trying to catch the glimpse of truth,

With a bleeding cup?

You see, it’s been proven how

Love and hate are nothing more than

Nerves that explode in a rebel mind,

Cells nurtured by a flesh

Exposed in countless sunrise,

Sometimes, hoping sunsets would never come,

Sometimes, sleeping till the dusk arrives.

And they say words pierce deeper

In the skulls of men,

Voices harmonize better

With the beating of hearts,

And wishes fly

Like prayers to souls;

But like spirits they are no more

Than selfishness disguised,

A make-believe of a majority

Craving for escape

Against harsh reality,

Against their very humanity.

Maybe I’m wrong, maybe

I’m dreaming as well

Lying to myself,

Looking past the mirror

Seeing a false reflection

From a shattered imagination

But it’s better this way;

I’d rather freeze

Naked in the blizzard, than

Ignore the treasures buried in snow.