The torture chamber painted
thick with red, white and black
fully contains artifacts different
unimaginable kind each one is.

Pain indeed was the tap root
from which art sprouts, says the poet
all the secrets of the heart, hidden deep
for which a heavy price is paid
throughout life, sing and dance
spin a fine yarn, tell an unforgettable tale

The day snuck into my mind
and I rolled over in denial
unable to shake off the inevitable
a days fate unfolding out the night
where I had dreamed of ***
when I thought all that was over
it turned around and bit me
and its false poison chalice
emptied itself into my body
full of forgotten promises.

i am a paradox
i am neither happy
nor am i sad.


                                                                                           i smile at pretty things
                                                                                     and laugh at funny things







                               but late at night i become
                               a mess of emotions and thoughts
                               and i wish i could just disappear

.
.
.
*I cry alone
Because that’s how I stay strong,

I cry alone,
Because that’s how I protect myself

I cry alone,
Because that’s how I stay ahead
of the game the next day.

I suffer my own struggle alone
And you wouldn’t why

I’m hurting inside
And you wouldn’t know why

I isolate myself
And you wouldn’t know why

I’m lonely
And still you wouldn’t know why.

how does one word
hurt much?

Do you even need help
in carrying
the load,
the burden you
kept,
and the life
you're trying to
bury?

SOMETIMES answering one question
is just asking too much...