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Can you see through the glass

To what I try to hide inside

Can you notice more than a reflection

More than beauty

More than pain

More than a girl driven insane

You see my heart

You watch it beat

Cold and dead

Lying in the street

I'm a ****** broken mess

Like glass smashed hard

More than seven years of luck gone bad

Ruined by the fates so cruel

Let evil fake gods rule

I take my aim at your heart

But with one look you break me apart

I am free from the glass

Not perfect far from that

I lay on slivers of shining daggers

Lighting prisms of golden slivers

I am here in your world

I am here unfrozen and free

I am here and your with me
Seasoned melancholia,
The wrath of life.
Levelled free will,
A dangerous strife.
Kissing this poison,
Drinking my pain.
Swallowing vermin,
Throwing up in vain.
It ends with you,
Take this to your grave.
My story for you,
Isn’t the hunger you crave.

In the dark,
There lay a corpse,
Dead as dead could be.
Covered in blood,
The body decayed.
The screaming had veered,
An eerie silence prevailed.
I was alone with him.
I bore witness to the event,
It unfolded when he had stretched out his hand,
Toward, stupefied by the beauty,
Pulled in by the magnanimity.
I saw it all, up, close and personal.
I felt nothing, no remorse no conscience,
It was strange, the man had no relevance.

But I cried nonetheless,
Wept at his foolishness,
The fatal attraction lead to his end.
His stubborn belief to relieve all,
To save a soul he himself would fall.
In the hands of a stranger,
The devil all along.

Mesmerized by the set of eyes,
He walked himself to a surprise,
Before I could even blink my eye,
A wave of thunder swept the sky.

I panicked, hid myself tight,
The stranger helpless, got struck by the light.
Ecstatic, in shock he imbibed a misconception,
The eyes being admired were of awry intention.

As I took refuge in the darkness,
Gawking at the scenery speechless.
The stranger losing his cool, nigh suicidal,
Gave up, and terminated his life cycle.

I came close to the cadaver,
And squeezed out his soul.
It couldn’t have lasted forever,
Ending up as the Devil’s finger bowl.

And I dragged, dragged it all along,
To a refuge safe from the devil’s own.
I brought him to my humble abode,
A cage small enough for one or two whole.
I placed the weightless spirit on the floor,
He woke up and saw me leaving through the door.
Shouted at the top of his mettle, “You! I know you!”.
“Hush” I proclaimed. “You need not worry,
There’s another soul I seek and need to carry,
And bring it here before it’s too late.
Till then you relax here, in your undead state.”


The Ethereal now confused and dumbfounded,
Quietened himself, feeling astounded.
One last time he gathered courage,
“You can’t leave me here, I have done nothing wrong!
This place scares me, I’m not that strong.”
“Oh but you have no choice,
You were brought here by your actions,
This IS where you belong.”

And with that I left him hopeless,
Opened the door and locked it with firmness.
The outside air smelled bitter,
The rusty surrounding was no better.
With disgust I set my path precise,
Avoiding the stranger’s delinquent cries.
Blasted myself off the ground,
Towards a place which reeks with chaotic freedom,
A hermitage, sane man’s Elysium.
Magnolia, the mental asylum.
There committed was a man,
Who had dared to escape with a sound plan.
His inner demons tortured and pestered him,
With psychological pain, detaching limb from limb.
I was his guide, his guardian angel.
As I approached the tortured male,
A creature so weak, color yellowish pale.
Locked in a room, a chance to unveil.
I woke him up with my sweet dreary voice,
“Rise, awaken my soul.”
And I opened the door with a loud crack,
“Hurry up, lest the guard will be back.”

With that it was enough for the man,
To take the hint in the small span.
He fled with the meagre chance he got,
He wouldn’t stand another day in this rot.
Believing in my words, he opened the door,
Only to get caught again, as before.

The doctor tied him to a work bench,
The man writhing away, repulsed by the stench.
“Don’t resist, the society cannot accept you,
You killed your wife and children, their ******’s on you.”
At this point I knew I had to step in, else I’d never acquire,
His soul, the sweet nectar, which I dearly desire.



I stood beside him, so that only he could hear my whisper,
“You’re no killer, don’t pay heed,
Your whole life was laden with good deeds.
Rebel, Cause chaos, never give a ****.”
And he obeyed, like a good little lamb.
They held him, prepared the equipment,
He moaned and groaned a denial indignant.
The stage for lobotomy was set,
For his beliefs stood virtually *****.
I placed my hand on his shoulders,
My unwavering touch, aiding his composure.
The doctor struck and I took his grace.
That was all, the seraphim now intact,
My purpose was served.

The stranger’s soul on the other hand,
Grew impatient in the demoniac land.
Bright light engulfed his thoughts and blinded him,
Shattered his notions, faltered his whim.
Appeared a man in straightjacket with bloodshot eyes,
A fierce expression adorned his face.
Was this my savior? Or was he the reaper’s prize?
Will I vanish from the face of the earth?
Or shall I die again tonight?
I was tired now, exhausted.
So I sat in front of them,
Both looking at each other,
Then at me.
The stranger cried,
“It was You! They were Your eyes!
The eyes that deceived me,
Lured me closer then tricked me!!
Either you’re the devil himself,
Or someone completely insane!”
“He’s not insane….” Said the crazy
“It’s a ‘She’ and a spirit so pure,
My good shepherd, an avenging angel,
Who saved me from my cure.
He’s the reason why I’m free now.”
I smiled, amused and amazed at the contrast,
I shall hold back a little and see how long it would last.

“You are to be blamed for my condition,
You brought me here to devour me,
It was your scheming leading to my damnation.”
“So untrue, she’s my path to redemption,
It was she, who believed me and cared for me,
When nobody in the world would help so easily.”
“You don’t realize, he took advantage of the darkness and stabbed me,
He broke my trust and attacked fiercely.”
The stranger had retrieved his long lost will,
Thought it was a battle he couldn’t sit still.
The man in the straightjacket too was fed up,
Hearing allegations about his angel, he stood up.
“You lie, she cannot be so cruel, it was God himself who had sent her
To aid me and put me out of my misery.”

It is the very nature of human so judging,
Faith in their instincts was far more than recurring.
How will mankind evolve?
If it cannot see beyond its own self,
How will mankind survive?
If we keep fighting amongst ourselves.

With a huge sigh I pitched in,
Else this would be a debate never finishing.
“Fools of darkness and insanity,
I speak for you and you only,
I am the result of your delusions,
I am what you want me to be.
I am your savior and your killer,
The factor you avoid so carelessly.
Do not blame me for your doings,
I never attacked you in the darkness,
Nor I opened the door for you,
My eyes were never that captivating,
My soft voice was never comforting.
I am your imagination,
Your brainchild.
Yet you mold me in the worst way possible.
True I was there when you were dying,
But you summoned me and begged for an answer,
All I am is fire to your fuel.

In front of you there is a choice,
Only one of you qualifies,
To get out of this purgatory.
One in heaven one in hell,
Decide amongst yourselves,
I’ll be ready when you choose to tell.”




Both now baffled and flummoxed,
The choice they had was a paradox.
The deserving shall win the argument,
The other shall be caged and boxed.
For me neither mattered,
I act as a silent observer,
From what I know they’d **** each other,
My faith in humanity can never be restored.

Strange however, they didn’t utter a word.
They were just silent, staring at each other,
Interesting, humans always amaze me.
But my job wasn’t done just yet,
I reached out my hand and prepared a pyre,
A hell for both if they choose to retire.
“Decide and push your friend in the fire,
The other shall inherit the Pearly Gates.”



They now were just struck dumb,
The fire in front had made them numb.
I stood amused smacking my tongue,
Waiting for the serenade to be sung.
For when the instincts kick in,
Only one would survive, the other will burn.
I stood anxiously, anticipating their turn.

Together now they held hands,
Approached the fire and stopped.
What a surprise! They both decided to off themselves,
Foolish again, the outcome had flopped.
The Stranger and the Crazy, looked straight at me,
“If you’re our imagination, you don’t decide our fate,
If you’re our creation, our lives you cannot dictate.
Foolish we were, not recognizing you,
Cowards we’re not, we now construe.
You lived many lives, the lives we give,
We don’t permit you to outlive
Beyond our hopes and imagination.
We’ve had enough, time to end this fantasy,
We no longer bow down to your indecency.”


And in a flash before I could cerebrate,
They pushed me hard, their spirits elate.
I fell into the flames, of the everlasting fire,
Who knew my own design would be my funeral pyre?

The basket case neared as I was torn asunder,
“Even though I believed you tried to help,
I knew somewhere I was to be blamed,
I was no longer the innocent whelp,
You had intended to be tamed.
Die now in peace as I choose to forget,
This is your punishment, bear no regret.”

The stranger too, had something to say,
“Listen to me before you decay,
I lived as a fool, blindly trusting you,
In the light of darkness, I believed you to be true.
I now realize, after my demise,
You’re just pathetic fragment of my life,
An actor, who played his part all along,
There’s no happy ending for you,
You must pay for what you did wrong.
Die in pain as I won’t forget,
This is your penalty, you corrupted silhouette.”
With these last words, I faded into oblivion,
Hell awaited me,
This is what I get, for being their progeny.
All this time I believed they were fools,
Honing their servility.
The calmness before the storm,
The levelling of free will,
No freedom of choice, no survival.
They are no fools, they just play dumb,
Nobody’s innocent, see what they’ve become.
They create demons and monsters,
And then take pride in slaying them.
A tiresome feat,
They enjoy mayhem.
With my end, others will rise,
Till they are done playing with lives.
Part 3 of The 'Karma' Trilogy
Back in the days of old
when knights were bold
who with a sword or lance
in armour sought romance.

It was the age of chivalry
long ago in man’s history
when to fight for a righteous cause
one did gain considerable applause.

It was mainly for show, love and glory
they deemed themselves being worthy
to capture the heart of some fair maiden
which was the most desired prize laden.

Oh, they would strike heavy blows
on all of their opponents and foes
in a one to one combat defying death
as crowds watched with abated breath.

Yes, it was far back in those days of yore
that courage and strength came to the fore
where there was this life and death struggle;
such issues at hand the knights would juggle.

And in fighting for their country, faith and king
noble impressions on people’s minds would ring
that even through the ages are held in high esteem
those knights in shinning armour do now all seem.

There are many legends based on their heroic exploits
a legacy of tales which have been told with much adroit
highlighting aspects of human wisdom related to virtue and vice
and the lessons to be learnt are those of goodness and sacrifice.

History usually repeats itself time and again
as it often happens a situation comes when
we’re asked to do something for a just cause
and acting with chivalry we shouldn’t pause.
Private Collection - written in 2002
butterflies scream,
wilted flowers weep
my loneliness holds me
in my sleep

toss and turn
that faithful friend
is here to stay
until my end

clinging to shadows
my blood it infects
until the noose tightens
around my neck

the puncture marks
in my arm
of the needle
keeps me warm

induced chemicals
in the red stream it goes
that loneliness inside
high and low

the end I see
no tunnel of light
finally I know, and I
cling to life...
                       With
                                  all
                                        my
                             might
Walking along.
Picking up the pieces
of a shattered glass.
Cleaning up someone elses mess
Fixing something, that was not yours to fix.
Is it your burden to carry,
To cut yourself on the glass
To bleed for a problem that you did not create?
Will this generate resentment, hate?

I am not a problem,
I am not a burden,
I am no longer shattered,
Though I do have some rough edges.
I would never try to cut you,
Just be careful, Because I have been broken.
and it is easier to shatter, again, after once you have.
And my edges are sharp, when shattered
But, I guess, that never mattered,
You walked right through
a broken life
and did what you do
and took my strife
and replaced it with Truth.
All my life I've been lectured to stay away from the dangerous things in life.
Stray animals, unknown substances, drugs, alcohol, and the things in between.
But no one ever warned me about the dangers of falling in love.
The way it resembles all the listed dangers.
Oh how love can wound my heart as if it has clawed it bit by bit.
Oh how love is so world known yet so strange and confusing.
Oh how love takes me to the highest clouds with addiction being the aftermath.
Oh how love can make me fumble, release my secrets, and bring me a pounding ache the morning after.
But no one ever warned me about the dangers of falling in love.
Maybe because love in all reality is far worse than any spiked drink.
Worse than a pill that drives me insane.
Worse than being mauled by sharp teeth and claws.
Love is more of a carcinogen.
Flowing through my bloodstream, unwanted, hurtful.
A substance I can't remove, despite the many attempts.
Love is far too dangerous for one to speak of.
Love is something so dangerous we refuse to accept it as an actual threat.
There is a place I go to sometimes,
it's a little hole that opens up when you need it.
It can be whatever you need it to be.
The balm for that pressing pain that squeezes your sobs out,
it is an in between place when you're falling apart.
See, time stops in that hole.
It lets you breathe.
And lets you live.
Somehow life isn't so sombre when you stop hurting.

It takes away the parts of you that are broken and gives you temps.
Isn't that what you needed?
To be fixed?
But see scotch tape and glue don't take away the scars.
The knowledge of things that can't be burn marks into you.
You grow into someone else that walks a little slower,
from knowing.
Once you discover something covering it up won't help.
So you're a little colder and a little more forlorn.
Innocence doesn't bind you anymore.

It's a whisper of hope when you feel lost,
a comforting hand when you feel alone.
It's a halfway place,
we all need one of those when our hearts fall in,
and the burden of feeling causes us to collapse in on ourselves.
"I got down on my knees because he said I would 
if I loved him. 
And what did I know then? 
when I first betrayed my body. 
Sold it for a kiss and a smile, 
thought to please at any cause, 
left to fight for independence in the backseat of cars.
On stained leather interior dank with the smell of expectations 
I traded integrity for security and called it love, leaving pieces of an empty shell falling behind my mother patting my head and saying 
“What happened to that nice boy you were dating? ”. 
Well, I pushed memories farther down 
buried beneath piercing sunlight, 
dreams my night would come to save 
and prayed 
scraping already skinned knees 
while I cried myself to sleep. 
So I bit the apple in confusion, 
abandoned my innocence 
beneath the tree of knowledge 
and became as bitter as the fruit 
I couldn’t refuse. 
Time and again, 
giving in, 
giving up, 
waiting, 
always wanting something more than pick-up lines, 
promising more than promiscuity, 
clothing myself in false hopes, 
enclosing my weariness in frail arms for years… Cars turning into bars with one lamp, 
and piles of discarded clothing, 
and I heard myself say “no” over and over. 
But he didn’t hear me, 
wouldn’t listen when he called me a “*****”, bringing me down and took the only innocence I had left. 
And I was searching still for purity, 
lurking in hidden corners, 
hips swinging, lips pouting, 
trading and shattered innocence 
for bared and braised and offerings 
I learned how to control 
and three years of vengeance passed 
while I was that woman despised. 
Well, they begged for plastic perfection 
found in the temptation inches from their faces and I could feel the longing, 
the lies when they said “You’re so beautiful” 
And it wasn’t enough
And so he loved music more than me, 
loved work more than me, 
loved money more than me, 
loved her more than me. 
And I loved him more than me. 
And I gave in 
to where I thought love hid; 
to the times I thought it was real. 
We give in to what men want, 
we paint ourselves with what we think are the colors of the rainbow, 
when we’re really cloaked in hips and lips, 
the brutal realities that leave us grasping 
tatters of the illusions of love and longing 
and the shattered threads of innocence. 
Until we wear our own colors 
and part the curtains we draped over our mirrors in mourning 
and look ourselves in and say 
“With you I feel like Isis and I am beautiful”.
A poem I saw on Def Poetry that I will never forget, It was written and performed by Dawn Saylor .

— The End —