Mercy came knocking once, a pale wanderer draped in dawn, with weary eyes and gentle hands, carrying no sword, only the burden of understanding. But the wicked knew not her face. Their hearts were citadels of stone, where compassion died unnamed and every wound became a weapon. They barred the gates. For mercy is a stranger in the hearts of the wicked. She walks their halls unseen, a ghost among shadows, whispering of forgiveness to ears that worship vengeance. They drink from poisoned wells and call bitterness wisdom. They sharpen grief into blades and wear cruelty like a crown. Where mercy offers a bridge, they build a wall. Where mercy kneels, they strike. And so she leaves quietly, taking her light with her, while darkness settles deeper into chambers already cold. The wicked do not fear mercy, they fear what mercy reveals: that beneath their iron masks, beneath their kingdoms of pride, beneath the ruins they call strength, there lives a trembling truth they dare not face. For merc...
They think your stupidity is on another level,
That you won’t hear the punchline hidden in their smiles,
That jokes are just jokes
Not traps dressed in laughter.
They believe you won’t notice
When eyes meet behind your back,
When laughter bends away from you,
Sharp, deliberate, rehearsed.
This is life in a bizarre world,
Where cruelty wears humor like perfume,
And mockery is passed around
As if it were wit.
Undermining is a daily meal
For those who think they’ve made it,
They feast on comparison,
Drink confidence from another’s doubt.
They play the poor like pieces on a board,
As if destiny were property,
As if lives came with ownership papers
Signed by luck and arrogance.
They speak of success as if they earned the sun,
Forgetting storms shaped them too,
Forgetting how quickly
The ground can shift beneath gold shoes.
Yet life hides its mysteries well.
The quiet outlasts the loud,
The mocked carry maps unseen,
The fooled are often the watchers.
Laugh if you must, strange world,
History keeps better records than pride.
Those you undermine today
Maybe the ones who understand tomorrow best.
© 2026 Gloria Penelope
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