I read a quote once,
“It is weak and silly to say you cannot bear what it is your fate to be required to bear.”
Why must I –
with the strength of my solitude, bear it.
Why must I
adorn the strife and wear it,
like the other would wear jewellery,
gilded in gold and unburdened by guilt.
So my question to whomever predetermined my fate is:
Why must I be ensnared?
While the other goes unscathed – spared.
Glorious writer of fate, tell me,
Why am I
silly and thoughtless like the common fool.
Why am I
consumed so much and used as a tool.
With only one functional side,
while the other has more pressing roles, it must abide.
O writer O fate,
I ask you once more:
Why was I
weak enough to fall and keep falling more?
Why was I
splattered on the beach like waves on a shore?
I came and I splashed, on the rocks I alone crashed,
and watched the other smoothly slither back into the ocean of blue,
ready to start over.
Why is this my fate, and why must I bear it?
Will there ever be anyone willing to share it?
