~~
I am not writing any poetry
Not a huff,
Not even a romantic mood,
I talked to a distress

Unto thee of say my friend:

The suffering of pain is more than a pain
Words of distress
No longer I can't say either

The story of that night
That is longer than a long night
That night, my love had died before the dawn

How do I tell thee

The suffering of love is unforgettable
Than the love you never achieved  
Middle of the night to about chest pain

When I could not bear it no longer
Then at late night I call a friend to awake
No longer I can't say either

My friend
O' my friend!
My dearest friend!

How do I tell thee
My soul grew dry that is more than a wither petals
No longer I can't say either

When the sudden stopped of time
I stood, Saw the closed distant door
No longer I can't say either

To be alone in everybody
Within a moment a known seems to be unknown
No longer I can't say either

The last thing to understand who she is constant
The story of the lost bright Star
No longer I can't say either

The door is closed
Maybe someone has locked
Alone, The sleepless nights of choking

One's that hard
Many pale faces in the crowd of strangers
Love is lost within too many hopes

How do I tell thee
No longer I can't say either
~~
@ Musfiq us shaleheen

i give up
on being kind, i simply don't deserve it

you know me better than i know myself
so which is it?
law or chaos? or freedom?

i found being a lunatic does not grant
you peace of mind; on the contrary

yearning for wind in your hair
makes it hurt more when you
end up sheltered again
but in all truth, freedom true too
sounds exhausting

especially

when you don't deserve to live
the girl who cried wolf
with her smiles and band-aids
only kids with innocence ever worry
about me anymore

others keep their eyes shut because
they're sick of watching me fall

In the darkest umbra of a shadow
Where time and wraith like dimensions collide
Is the place you can find all man’s sorrows
And woman’s secrets they’ll never confide

In the obscurity of one’s dark gloom
In your contrasting reverse projection of self
You can envision your impending doom
Like a porcelain doll falling from the shelf

Trace the outline of your twisted dark shade
Chalking the ground where your body will be laid
Lying down, your shadow and you become one
While you lie dead under the blazing sun