There’s always a price to pay for being perseverance. Often, we don’t have a choice.
It isn’t for fun or showing off, something which I must do. It’s always the case that when the thing you do doesn’t benefit others, they wouldn’t hesitate to doubt and badmouth you.
I’ve to maintain my dignity and pride though they’ve already been shaken; some despicable people advise me to take care of myself but they say different things behind my back – I don’t know who.
So I work hard in the day, and get my pain in the end. In this night when nobody cares, aching is the companion.
Resembles of the great old days reappear, just when I’m still fit enough to put in my best – nobody praises but still feel so satisfied of myself.
I can still remember how my injuries worsen – the months when I refuse to believe that I’m being taken for granted, trying to be easy-going and magnanimous.
I can still remember the medical officer warning me not to carry any heavy load and insisting that he would give me my rightful medical status. Soon he leaves the dark force when my problem remains unsolved.
With the naiveness and unable body, the inferior feeling gives a big cut while people add in bruises. None knows how much I wish to get things done; none can understand my fetish to redress injustices.
Often, I’m so afraid to adapt to this dark society, that my philosophies stand no ground anymore. A debate of the angel and devil over my ears decides continuation of suffer or lost of my purest soul.
The same question arises over and over again – will you treat me the same if I were a changed person and not as devoted as before?