My hands are empty, smoke clouding my vision, and in the distance, scorched desires burn away—hope withers in the aftermath. A fantasy of wealth haunts me, an illusion that leads only to demise, but it remains, clinging to me like a lifeline that I cannot escape.
Unfulfilled wishes stir within, inaudible cries buried deep within my soul, waking and reviving with every passing moment. My life is a paradox, a constant struggle between acceptance and denial, like a fable written with the ink of deprivation, its narrative concise and cruel.
Horrendous winds propel me forward, but each raindrop that falls only serves to intensify my unsaid temptations, my yearnings for more. Life remains stagnant, suspended in a state of catastrophic levitation, and I am left with no way to escape the emotional eruption building within.
I long for something—a morsel of hope—but my bare feet are left to tread upon a world that takes more than it gives. Poverty steals away my dreams, leaving them shattered in the darkness of my sleep. An eerie silence settles around me, and in the midst of it, I see the shadow of an eclipse. The barren tree stands, weeping, its shade offering no comfort, and I remain incomplete, just a figure lost in the suffocating grip of all that is unfulfilled.