A poem I wrote a little while back, inspired দ্বারা something I was reading... আপনি probably wouldn't believe it after পাঠ করা this, but I'm usually a pretty cheerful person. :)
Looking Backwards in the Dark
Our days are numbered দ্বারা the gods
and counted দ্বারা demons,
Our names are sacred and our trust
Is nonexistent. Those who trust, die.
Faith can kill. Having none will destroy
your soul eventually. No medium, it seems.
প্রণয় is terrifying and friendship
Is as tenuous as the short bridge of letters
that convert friend to foe. Good and evil
Take a thousand different forms in the
eyes of the beholders. What is true?
Walk a thousand miles with a lantern
and ask for names. Beware the dark,
Churches are no sanctuary against
anything. And a darkened human soul
Is too powerful. A black হৃদয় can conquer.
The perfect world is a pretty shell
Over a rotting interior. Forged in flames of
death and destruction, cooled with tears.
O the times! O the morals!
What is written is done. Spoken words
lose their meaning. Don’t even think about
trying to escape Fate. Call on the gods
And beg them to keep their power from us -
Humanity is not ready. But does anyone
Believe in anything any more? I do not know
And so we go on. Brother against brother
And friend against friend, lover against lover
In this senseless, never-ending war.
The fault lies in ourselves…
Ask: What is all this for?
Looking Backwards in the Dark
Our days are numbered দ্বারা the gods
and counted দ্বারা demons,
Our names are sacred and our trust
Is nonexistent. Those who trust, die.
Faith can kill. Having none will destroy
your soul eventually. No medium, it seems.
প্রণয় is terrifying and friendship
Is as tenuous as the short bridge of letters
that convert friend to foe. Good and evil
Take a thousand different forms in the
eyes of the beholders. What is true?
Walk a thousand miles with a lantern
and ask for names. Beware the dark,
Churches are no sanctuary against
anything. And a darkened human soul
Is too powerful. A black হৃদয় can conquer.
The perfect world is a pretty shell
Over a rotting interior. Forged in flames of
death and destruction, cooled with tears.
O the times! O the morals!
What is written is done. Spoken words
lose their meaning. Don’t even think about
trying to escape Fate. Call on the gods
And beg them to keep their power from us -
Humanity is not ready. But does anyone
Believe in anything any more? I do not know
And so we go on. Brother against brother
And friend against friend, lover against lover
In this senseless, never-ending war.
The fault lies in ourselves…
Ask: What is all this for?
To her, memeories are a painful reminder of the past. She has a box full of them. She has an idea. She takes the box full of memories to a field. She opens it and takes out the worst memory of all. It's a picture of them smiling. She gets angry and rips it in half. She takes a lighter and sets the picture on fire. She sets it on the box. All the memeories she kept hidden, go up in flames. She smiles, then leaves. The flames eventually die down. Her memories are completely lost. And she's happy about it.