The World we live

Hope in the face of despair

They told me this world was cruel,
and, for the longest time, I believed them.
I believed that hearts were meant to break
and promises were crafted to be shattered.
I thought kindness was a rare bird,
a fleeting visitor in the garden of life,
never lingering long enough to stay.

For I lived in a place where shadows danced,
where trust was a fragile thread,
and dreams were like delicate glass,
crushed by the careless hands of fate.
I've seen tears fall like the rain in winter,
watched smiles dissolve into silence,
and still, here I am—
writing, breathing, fighting.

You see, this world tried to break me, too.
Tried to turn my heart into stone
and my soul into a wasteland,
but somehow, amidst the wreckage,
I found a seed of something more.
Something that refused to be drowned
by the waves of sorrow crashing over me.

Yes, the nights are long,
and the darkness deep.
I have cried beneath the stars,
wondering if anyone else feels this weight,
if someone, somewhere, feels as I do—
trapped in the shadows,
searching for even a sliver of light.

But maybe, if you're reading this,
if your heart is aching, too,
we can be a spark in this world together,
lighting a small flame that refuses to die.
Because I learned that hope is stubborn,
and it clings to you when everything else falls apart.

So, if you're lost, just know this:
I've been there, too—
down in the depths, beneath the rubble of dreams.
But if we keep walking, one step, one breath,
we'll find that even the darkest nights
are no match for the dawn that's coming.

For hope is not loud; it is not proud.
It is a whisper that says, "Hold on."
And I am still here, holding on.
And perhaps, so are you.