If we Channeled the Power of the Complaining Mind

From life’s daily routine, we’re all used to discontent everytime there’s a minor setback big nor small, until it consumes you too easily, then you noticed
In the morning of traffic, those voices raises and even temper rises without hesitation like waves of complaints that easily eat us
It's that easy to sigh in just a flick of the tongue, we spill out complaints without any form of thought or without any form of compromise
To form and find every fault is to forget our own, even with those quiet moments when we feel so desperate to change, out comes the list of what we “ought” to show…

If only I can bring a higher form of understanding, never easy to point and blame but to nurse our own pride and ego to also protect one’s own responsibility
We dress our own words with excuses that only felt lighter for a while, easy form of gratification, hoping that you could hide where we didn’t do right
“We all make mistakes, is that such a crime?” “I was right and you are wrong to do so”, attacking each other in order to consume and comfort our own argument
I want to be able to see my own mistake but not to be able to compare it with what is “unfair” upon “unjust”, until I can back down from those winding roads of weight and excuses…

Excuses is yet endless, they build walls, a fortress so grand and even crumble to dust that easily like castles of sand from the seashore of explanations
That illusion of relief does not give you a much more light in the air, each word of explanation an excuse adds to burden you have chosen to bear
But the weight only shifts you to become your own foe, grumbling to think just to release the pain, even somehow circles you in one loop to the other, again and again
The load even grows heavier until the air turns into a tedious habit that you cannot escape from, still it adds to the load that grows heavily from one excuse to the other…

Each mistake done, is a forever tale of excuse, it’s too strange to accept that you have failed in some point, but it's true just to live a life of ease
Having that instant comfort won, yet we still moan about what’s left undone even that smallest trouble grow larger and louder, still this temporary peace is too empty and dull
Into that tapestry of argument, each word of protest bounces off the walls to more places of discontent, until the curse of weeds dare to raise their heads until these grievances grow day by day
Until we wonder why we cannot move on with mistakes at all, we justify ourselves with the why or unless we choose to carry and accept what circumstance we are given, then gratitude appears to be risen.

Watchwords:
The unfolding gift of mistake
With the acceptance of human plight
Can someone help me pull out the threads
Those wasted energy, and the lost time

Here is Tikatarot, who dares you to answer the question, “Who am I?”..

As and will always be reminding you to dream:
“As you are still the Master of your destiny and the maker of your dreams…”

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