Humans are complicated beings...Not in their bones, nor in the veins
that crisscross their skin,But in what cannot be seen — in that silent space between their eyes.
They have faces, bodies, and similar hands,But no two minds are alike.
Their minds are cities of questions,Their souls, stages where imagination
performs whatever it pleases.
They imagine what they don't possess,Then cry because it's not theirs.They build heavens out of illusion,Then wonder why life feels so empty.
Inside each of them burns a restless core:
It's called need, shaped like greed,and it sounds like madness.
Some escape pain with love,Others with wealth,And some, who find nothing…
Escape into dreams,And build a pink world —A lie so beautiful, it helps them forget the truth.But truth, like a shadow,Follows us… even when we run with our eyes closed.
And this is the story…
Of a man who couldn't bear to open
his eyes.