Sitting under blanket… whole face wrapped with a pillow, you
cry your lungs out
You wait for the worst to come… you know you cannot stop
yourself because you don’t want to… trying every single possibility you fail
yourself
You do… you do what you have always escaped to answer your own
self… you cut the blood out of you with that small blade… blood drops on the brown
table… and you feel so contented…
You’re calm at this instant… that baleful dark and soundless
silence seize your whole soul and mind, you wait to get melted… you breathe the
name of god on your fault…
You walk on the lonely road slowly and hidden so that no one
can see you…you’re competent of avoiding contact with the world of suffering.
No matter how bad you try to live ordinary simple loving
life… your past haunts you… with the sword of heartrending memories… and
reminds you of what is wrong in you… reminds you of your lost passion and
love and life and emotion and care and sensitivity… reminds you of your lost human…
you are a mad horrible monster inside… you are what is result of the sinful upbringing…
You cannot feel loved, cannot love even, you envy love that
how he can love… your hatred is so robust that you cry for love but you can’t
grab it… you run after it… but when it comes to you, you stab it in the neck
like an filthy pig…
You desire no one… you are scared to desire or accept
anything that you might lose it one day… your monstrous head gives you no control
over him… he wants you to leave everything which sounds happy around you and
surrender your soul in dark and die and crave and howl…
You struggle to live with a smile… you’re a lost mind… what
is left in you is the both whore and the child… the child is absurdly abstruse and
the whore is monstrously angry of love.
No comments:
Post a Comment