ACT II — broken Soul
The deeper faith grows,
the more it breaks the believer.
Little by little,
the girl disappears.
She smiles while crying.
She dances while collapsing.
Around her,
everyone wears the same face.
No one runs.
Because everyone here
calls it a blessing.
Plates shatter.
Blood blooms.
Screams become music.
And no one calls it tragedy.
Because this is a festival.
A holy celebration.
“Be happy now.
Be brighter.
Smile until it hurts.”
This was the second sin:
Calling pain love.
