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shahzeb-k
shahzeb-k
Poems2
Followers1
Words251
She calls on you like the blisfull mermaid the is reconing doenst bother who is where she is but the start of an unformal affair the wife of many and the truth uncompared she is but a mermaid staring in the distance the long lost love awakens a shinning bright spark of another prey she is the worst of all predators you do not know my dear what is the wrongess and the darkness of the matter the vengeful is still at large the bliss is atlast come to the poise of unconditional salvage the attorney of the sage is but his past the wise tell you to take retreat in the shell of death the sage tells you to step ahead for the moses of times is just blind by the rage of the matter is a customary shatter the bliss is real my friend you see you are not involved in the pscychopath drama they have crafted your nerves so well you become the cup the drama the morphine to your pains is but another tragedy a bigger one to ease the pains of the past lives you are the serendipitous archive of the documented torture a mind can concieve or relive in the lonliness the shutter of the blind called eyes may not blink but the urge to put inside a prickly object to bleed your self out at least somthing should come out not a word not a sound but more and more profund silence a more psychlogical war fare a more deadly hit a more angered adversary the more precise path is that of forgiveness your choices lead you here you can choose a new destination your sights must not fail you are but an unanswered prayer you are but an unanswered prayer...
0
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 2:00 AM UTC
Mermaid
She calls on you like the blisfull mermaid the is reconing doenst bother who is where she is but the start of an unformal affair the wife of many and the truth uncompared she is but a mermaid staring in the distance the long lost love awakens a shinning bright spark of another prey she is the worst of all predators you do not know my dear what is the wrongess and the darkness of the matter the vengeful is still at large the bliss is atlast come to the poise of unconditional salvage the attorney of the sage is but his past the wise tell you to take retreat in the shell of death the sage tells you to step ahead for the moses of times is just blind by the rage of the matter is a customary shatter the bliss is real my friend you see you are not involved in the pscychopath drama they have crafted your nerves so well you become the cup the drama the morphine to your pains is but another tragedy a bigger one to ease the pains of the past lives you are the serendipitous archive of the documented torture a mind can concieve or relive in the lonliness the shutter of the blind called eyes may not blink but the urge to put inside a prickly object to bleed your self out at least somthing should come out not a word not a sound but more and more profund silence a more psychlogical war fare a more deadly hit a more angered adversary the more precise path is that of forgiveness your choices lead you here you can choose a new destination your sights must not fail you are but an unanswered prayer you are but an unanswered prayer...
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Since the making of time since the blowing of winds the one thing that lurks the mind what is it that makes it sane the doubts the fears and the pushing rage are all the peaces of a rotten clock the mundane and the specific are just the ingredients of the retreat you call home a place in the chest or the head doesn't matter a place safe but who can tell what if you are not to be in there but some where else is there a home a bliss of the unknown the rigid morph is now a year old it rots and it smells but it will not be taken away for its decay is the proof of once a man who lived inside it and now he is but a vision a behavior guided channel for the zombies to guide them to his last resting place he is but non so sad in fun he is but past the ugly tests of truth and dare a long lost vehicle in the depth of the lake a silent ****** and a blissful bate a sickening tone to the whole drama and yet no escape a shadow lurks and ***** the life the nurtured one is now lost he is but a remain of the what there might be when the winds and the moist and the ants and the algae have done their part in the add ons a sure signs of age you age not my friend you just get experienced at the injustice of the love you wishfully hold in the heart the guard are foever down when you had them forever up no body sleeps in side no more no saint no monster no eagle no panther instead a ruin of the premature larva from the cocoon neither fly nor wound but lay smitten by the master disguised enemy the worst of them all vanity the alchemy of ****** is simple you poison them little by little and it becomes a daily ritual you die inside and long for more that is the beauty of the heart for all that is is all that now will bite a path of the path the rage of the rage sing with me my dear friend a paradise lost is better than the thousand in place..
0
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 1:06 AM UTC
All that the heart is
Since the making of time since the blowing of winds the one thing that lurks the mind what is it that makes it sane the doubts the fears and the pushing rage are all the peaces of a rotten clock the mundane and the specific are just the ingredients of the retreat you call home a place in the chest or the head doesn't matter a place safe but who can tell what if you are not to be in there but some where else is there a home a bliss of the unknown the rigid morph is now a year old it rots and it smells but it will not be taken away for its decay is the proof of once a man who lived inside it and now he is but a vision a behavior guided channel for the zombies to guide them to his last resting place he is but non so sad in fun he is but past the ugly tests of truth and dare a long lost vehicle in the depth of the lake a silent ****** and a blissful bate a sickening tone to the whole drama and yet no escape a shadow lurks and ***** the life the nurtured one is now lost he is but a remain of the what there might be when the winds and the moist and the ants and the algae have done their part in the add ons a sure signs of age you age not my friend you just get experienced at the injustice of the love you wishfully hold in the heart the guard are foever down when you had them forever up no body sleeps in side no more no saint no monster no eagle no panther instead a ruin of the premature larva from the cocoon neither fly nor wound but lay smitten by the master disguised enemy the worst of them all vanity the alchemy of ****** is simple you poison them little by little and it becomes a daily ritual you die inside and long for more that is the beauty of the heart for all that is is all that now will bite a path of the path the rage of the rage sing with me my dear friend a paradise lost is better than the thousand in place..
Continue reading...
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