Perspective

A tortured boy with dainty and charming eyes searches for solace and comfort in being understood. He slowly reveals his inner world to those who are illiterate about him, but does he realize that humanity, struggling to truly gauge him, is reducing his essence to mere words? 

People ponder his anguish, wondering what torment haunts him. Is it the weight of loneliness, the echoes of silence, the aimlessness of his existence? Or could it be love, yearning, a deep infatuation that left him devoid? 

Yet, little do they understand that the boy isn’t searching for comfort or validation; he is hunting for an excuse. An emotional distraction, a personal barrier—an excuse that solidifies his belief that he does not belong to this world, nor does the world belong to him. 

The walls of his heart remain unbreakable, a glass cage designed not to free him but to showcase his suffering—suffering that has been rising with the ashes of his heart, which was in flames even before the ink dried. This cage embodies both the familiar and the mysterious, transforming the hearts of those who dare to look and question. 

But who will serve as the inquisitor when the cage feels like home? With its false sense of security, humanity will forever remain on the outside, for the boy guards his sanctuary with an unyielding resolve, unwilling to let anyone inside, only cleaning it for a new perspective.