WEIGHT OF MEMORIES

  

  Your 38 years passed soon. You can now sense the approach of the conscious end, the happier memories of fallen joys, if they were all ended up in the garbage dump of memory.

Someone's kind, heavenly smile can never greet you again. The clouds of your selfish-stubborn, flighty reputation will soon be blown away by the vulture-throated wind.

You could once and for all make peace with yourself and with the lying, pretending world that constantly stalks you and surrounds you. Your wandering, revenge-hungry fate did not label you - but it sent against you the many vile and unjust verdicts.

You should open the heavy mundane marble gates of your loneliness again so that you don't always philosophize or morph unnecessarily about: what can be yours? Where do you go towards your gloomy, hopeless future?!

The price of your peace is already paying a tragic price. The number of people around you who left you because they abandoned you, cheated on you, or just died has long since increased.

You are waiting for someone else or help! Your stubborn stubbornness can be your only coffin. It's too bad to open the door of your heart lightly. Your final message, written long ago, will not encourage you or comfort you until a savior human voice calls you.

First, your bones twitch, then in your inner world, some rough, beastly pain from the wasteful, past actions, which were deliberately and willingly postponed.