Born - Hello Poetry

Born Jun 2017

Virgo

pain demands to be felt

Born Jun 2017

Maybe I'll exhibit an ounce of satisfaction
When I see your heart fumbling on the floor,
On account of all the pain and sorrow it caused

No
Your burden doesn't turn you into a Saint
And no
You will not cloak yourself on hope
You'll not shade the bitterness that comes with hate
you will long for and sail on dejection,
Always looking on dreadfulness of your past tales

Dry your eyes
am talking to you
As days bleed into years
you'll soak up a great deal of agony
your life will be on a constant loop of despair

And then
Only then
You will remember this poem

Born Jun 2017

Luminous post

Blessings are for the one who controls his tongue from vicious and useless talks

Born Jun 2017

wrecked me

My poems are so dark that sometimes they frighten me
do I hate or enjoy darkness?
does it define me?
Is this the person that I am deep down?
Would you read THIS POEM and still think that Born is sane?

Which person shuns hope
In such a sweet way, that he almost entices you into despair?
Who the heck writes such an emotive piece
that screams help me
But doesn't rely ask for it

Does my path lead to purgatory
a haunting forsaken place?
Why call myself Born
If am dead inside.

Why do I lie to myself
that my poems are filled with light that will brighten my days
is hopelessness a gift to be shared or devoured and isolated?
is a ray of light that frightening?

sincerely leave a comment . am sure you've noticed the question marks

Born Jun 2017

this poem

Will not make you feel better about your hate
Your certified misspelled life that echoes solitude
Your craving for purpose
but still clinging to your virtual reasoning

This poem will not clot your wounds
neither be your salvation in your agony
or your hope in your fading conviction

This poem is not for the faint hearted
Or obtuse sluggish thoughts
the ones with trifling victories of life
that are swept away inevitably

This poem is nothing but a speck of your lives
it'll not suffice your haplessness
Or your pitiful endeavors

This poem will not reborn your hope
Whether it was written by Born
Or not

Born Jun 2017

torn Pages

Finding hope at the dimming tunnels

Can
            be
                     Illusive

My heart paused when I opened the casket
.
     .                 .
          .        .     .
              .            .
                              .
                                .
                                  .
and saw that you were still dead

A promise of happy ever after was

B           o            e
      R            k              n

                                                         Caught
                                          between
                                  fate
                         and
          destiny

I
Clung
To
Those
Scratched
tears
on
the
wall