You laugh at them. You point your finger and call them a fool. Their silence amuses you, their gentleness becomes your joke, and the crowd joins your laughter as if kindness were weakness. It feels enjoyable today, sweet on your tongue like careless victory. Their patience becomes your stage, their humility your entertainment. But time is a quiet witness. It watches without speaking, It writes its lessons slowly in the turning pages of life. A day will come When laughter turns into tears. The echoes of your mockery will return to your own ears like thunder across an empty sky. Situations will arise without warning, storms without hands to beat you Yet heavy enough to break your pride. Pain will arrive quietly, And you will feel the trembling of a heart that once laughed too loudly. And that fool, that funny person you once mocked, may stand in the distance, not laughing, but witnessing your tears, your shaking voice, Your falling ego. For life has a patient way of bending the tallest p...
They speak of love as if it were a kingdom, a crown worn proudly, a ruler of the heart. But not in my world. In my world, no throne was built for it, no anthem sung in its name, No flag raised in its honor. They call it destiny, a force that bends the soul, a strange, glowing gravity that pulls lives into its orbit. But not in my world. It never walked my streets, never knocked on my door, never breathed within my walls. They say it conquers reason, that it sweetly deceives, turning wisdom into whispers and strength into surrender. But not in my world. It never lived to rule me. It never rose to guide my steps. It never played a role to quietly fool me. Others may kneel before it, may build their lives around its flame. But in my world, love was always just a story. a strange, distant something that never learned my name. © 2026 Gloria Penelope