Words sink me

by Chua Han Au

Sometimes, to not associate the plummeting rain with melancholy and the rustling leaves as soft whisper – but to be blissfully ignorant – lightens the intensity of life tenfolds.

Why do we associate metaphors with everything we see; why do we write about the minute things that are meant to be left overlooked; why are we giving permanence to fleeting moments; why are we cruelly drawing ourselves this noxious vortex during midnight, only to sink.

People are being careful with words and maybe I should too.

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