Preachers

Some people claim that they know everything as if they have already figured out the mystery of the universe. They claim they have control over their emotions, over their heads. They move around and show people boastfully that they are the kings/queens of the world. That they stand alone- proud and unblemished by the world that continues to scar everybody. They are the mightiest. They are the strongest. They need no one. Their battlecry: "Me, myself and I!"

They laugh as they witness a scene of crying souls as they try to help lift each other everyday. They say they don't need to surrender their weaknesses to realize their strengths. They say they don't have it. They may say they have a taste of it but are smart enough to learn from it quickly. They say they have learned from the past and like masters born from a crooked past, they have risen to overcome tears. They say tears are worthless. They say crying out for help is pathetic. They say those who cry for help are pathetic.

Yet these people who find temporary contentment in their tall claims, not the ones who don't see shame in shedding tears, are the saddest people in the world.  It's even sadder the way these fake masters keep ignoring this fact. It even gets more unfortunate to see themselves try to avoid what is inevitable. They mask their weaknesses with fake smirks on their faces. They roll their eyes while they hide their bodies quivering in pain. And in the dark, alone, they weep like dogs whimpering on their hungry tormented guts. Yet in utmost desperation, they still disclaim their fall and hold on to whatever pride left in them, regardless if already, there's none.

They thought they can hide their pain. Yet it shows in their eyes when they seek the attention that they long for everyday. I hope I don't see that day when they all come out of the dark where they occasionally hide- only bones, skin and pride leaking through their dying brains left- still claiming that theirs is the world to conquer. For I shall not hesitate to look down upon them, return from the void whence they once banished me, and laugh at them on the borders that which they have established.

I wish not for that day to come when hatred reigns supreme in my heart. But if it does I would gladly perform my part. For now, I pray that they would be gone someday. And they will be, someday. It's just a matter of having patience in the long wait.