drops full of anger, guilt and betrayal pouring down
from my eyes like rain in a sleepless night
soaked in blood and it’s stains on my gray shirt
two daggers stabbed at the same spot
their existence in my words and work
but for them I’m just a mirage,
a pseudo reflection of life in a dead desert
a hand to pull them out of it, a toy to be pushed into it
a ecosystem flourishing in peace but burnt down by fire one night
my quill, my papers untouched for a time,
lived in an illusion, a lie, that unforgivable sin