I saw him once—
clean cut, confident,
walking like the world owed him a breakthrough.
Shoes spotless, but his motives? Tainted.
He spoke like the truth was dangerous,
like illusions were currency,
like shortcuts were holy.
He said,
“If you’re broke here, you’ll be humble by default.”
So he chased wealth,
but not through the honest door.
Uncanny behavior—
like ambition stripped of wisdom,
a fire lit without direction.
He met someone who promised fast riches,
profits with no logic,
returns without reason.
“Bring a little,” he was told,
“It multiplies overnight.”
He laughed—not out of joy,
but because his desperation finally felt seen.
Opportunism wore a sharp suit,
and gullibility had the scent of hope.
He soaked his dreams in it
until they glistened with deceit.
He sold the only thing his family had left.
The thing his mother said,
“Don’t touch this.
Your future might be hidden inside.”
But hunger can make wisdom sound like noise.
Then came the story—
a neighbor, quiet and driven.
Gone one morning with nothing,
returned glowing.
We asked no questions.
Here, appearance is proof enough.
Two weeks later,
his photo circled.
Missing.
The glow faded,
and so did he.
Uncanny behavior—
how young men vanish
while chasing gold
in empty places.
Still, they follow the same path.
Like thirst chasing mirages,
like ambition trapped in echo chambers.
Why do we trade our tomorrows
for illusions dressed as opportunity?
Why do we trust the false
just because it’s fashionable?
To the girl with the gentle eyes and heavy heart,
to the boy, convinced suffering is a step to success—
look closer.
Not all open doors lead to freedom.
Some are just decorated traps.
Build slowly.
Grow deeply.
Let your journey speak in legacy,
not just noise.
Because in this age of fast fame and quicker falls,
the only real success
is peace untouched by panic.
