interest

'it's their fault', screams the suited man as his dreams come to naught. he had money in his hands but it was never real, only shadows of interest, to which he payed too much interest, and sold his life for it all to be taken away and now he's left with nothing, or even less, or more.

what's more than nothing? a wise man used to say, 'the half of it's not much', but not everyone can understand that realm of logic. nothing is what you get when you pay everything on top of debts in which you owe more than the seller sold. a devious trick to distort the mind and wage war on the Benefactor, the most High who decides all price..

so at what cost comes nothing? it's priceless, and unbuyable. there is no nothingness anymore, it's been had. except when everything is dead and the Almighty king says, 'Whose is the kingdom today? - Allah, the One, the Irresistable'.

and a day of reckoning when all those who had been suited in their best prada and dolce&gabbana shirts and ties are risen up to account for their 'interest'ing accounting, after which comes an everlasting gloom (and even gloom is a pretty word, which those proponents will wish for, and cry and beg for, and never attain).

fed with the disgust of unimaginable pain, and filthiness, eternally regretting not listening to these words, and only wanting to die, and to have never existed.

and that's a never that's just as impossible to attain as nothingness and oblivion. and just as unimaginable..

so die in your state if you dare, and we'll see you on the other side.

witness that at least we told you, as you lie in the darkness you prepared for yourself.

interesting, isnt it?