The Curse of Being Human
(poetry):
Life is a game no one wins,
A road with turns no one predicts.
Standing tall, ruling the world,
Yet falling hardest when betrayed by our own.
No beast knows the sting of trust turned to dust,
No animal weeps for a love gone cold.
Yet we do—oh, we do,
Carrying wounds that time won’t close.
They say, “Time heals,” but does it, really?
It numbs, it distracts, but the pain still lingers.
Buried deep, behind forced smiles,
Behind laughter that echoes hollow.
And just when we stand again,
Life strikes with another storm.
No breath to catch, no space to heal,
Just battle after battle, lesson after lesson.
Happiness? It fades too fast.
But pain? Oh, it stays,
Settling in our bones,
Becoming part of who we are.
Yet without it, are we even human?
Without scars, without stories,
Are we just like the animals,
Living, but never truly feeling?
Maybe they have it easier,
No heartbreak, no betrayal,
No endless search for meaning
In a life that never stops testing us.
But here we are—made to feel it all.
To break, to rise, to fall again.
And maybe that’s the real curse of being human...
We never stop feeling.
