Image surréaliste divisée de feu emprunté et de faim intérieure

It wasn’t kindness - just a virtue on display, A polished act performed for eyes to look your way. It wasn’t kindness - fear that taught you how to play, A practiced yes repeated just to live another day. It wasn’t kindness - what once bent learned to look down, You climbed by calling others less, and wore the crown. It wasn’t kindness - just belief turned into hunger, A greedy reach for light to make yourself purer. You gathered all the light you could and still sank to hell, Skin glowing as it split and rotted where you fell. The shine never touched the hunger at your core, You burned with borrowed fire.. and still wanted more.. (make this poem to an image, High quality aesthetic, muted color, dark and pain, no text, multiple frames, diagonal split image).

monochrome