People are Best at Suffering
People are best at suffering. They cause each other pain without any regrets, no remorse, and no regrets. They disappear, then they appear. Change loves like sheets.
Too many excuses:
I don’t have time.
Not today.
Not now.
Maybe another time.
I smile falsely and pretend they weren’t in the morning when the escape was in warm arms. They lie to themselves and where it was, they turned into nothing. He wonders why they don’t have people with them who offer at least an ounce of love. Let them wait. Mint.
Forget a simple "Hello, how are you?" Less good words. Less "Thank you." Less "Forgive me." It compensates for the pain, with passers-by through life, through the bed. And on the retina of the eyes, I carry fragments of poisoned souls. We are like waiters offering pain on the tray. We are good at devouring souls.
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