Just like the winter is cold, the love of many has grown ice-cold. Where is Love? Oh heavens, I cannot even see the dove? Indifference, mercilessness and torture are rampant everywhere. People are thirsty for love; it’s nowhere. You cannot give it unless you know who love is, and attach yourself to Him. Blind to Him, you’ll only sing a love song; your life is full of piercing thorn. While you could pitch in with food, hunger kills your kind. Oh Remorseless kind! Fish in hand, you’re so selfish.
While on earth, I suffered and longed for folks to reach out; I never saw any handout. You tried to survive. But how could you Mr. Job? I once was blessed with love, but later cursed with death; wife loved me, but later wished me dead. I had friends at a feast; clothed with suffering, there was just me at least.
Oh Mr. Writer! However great you are, no one is pitching in with comments on here. Your piece cannot garner any attention, unless you draw your presence on there. The devil’s trying to pin your piece down; you’re climbing out of the hole. How long will that be? Oh! Maybe, you just write like a wannabe.
You were born to the sinful world, where your father is heartless. Despite having contributed to your birth, he’s been meaning to make you breathe less and less till you breathe your last. You need my hug back; if I could I would, alas! Pardon the ice on my heart. Oh torturer, impossible to act like I’ve never been hurt. May heavens melt the ice on my heart and help me reach new heights!