Fire, for passion, desire and rage,
Incinerated fingers bleeding over pieces of paper and rusting squeaking chains,
which hang on ceilings of limestone and sins,
Hosting windows through which letters scattered and blew away in the wind,
The nails and screws which lie n the ground,
they pierce the floors we built -the floors scream, yet we hear no sound,
We walk with one foot in the grave,
have we lost our minds? -these minds wish to abrase!

Stumbling over rocks as we clash with the storms,
we tremble and we cower, and we yearn for an abode,
but when the rain sings, we run from the pour,
For a haven, a shelter, maybe in the worlds out yonder,
Down below the Earth, a place with no sonder.
Yet, there is no proof of despondency, blood or perdition,
but have we ever really walked along the path of retribution?

Water, to drown out the voices in our heads,
to erode the miseries and tear away the stead,
to quench the thirst that never dies out,
When we wish for a fire that doesn't extinguish; for a scripture, a route.
But what can I say when I plead and I plead, but I am paid no heed?

I used to walk in gardens that held an aura of purity,
my thoughts were friends, and I bathed in disillusioned clarity,
The scars on my body were merely scrapes on knees,
When I fell from the swings or staggered down branches of trees,
Now, I live in shadows which kiss my eyes,
They hold me tight and whisper the lies,
Lies which carve the truth in my mind;
And at the dark hours, the truth on why I rely,
Stabs me repeatedly as I fight the tremors at night.

I throw knives at canvases and I create art,
as my eyes accompany dark moons, and wounds mark my heart.
Ropes on ladders, all broken and knotted,
The deserted rooms and empty hallways, the drawers I've sought in,
For feathers and footsteps, for answers and frozen clocks,
For the sound of the past, the bullets we shot,
The bracelets and bangles I wore on these wrists,
The rings and promises I once clenched in these fists.
I breathe and I clench this pen on a brink,
and when they take away my paper, I’ll ink the words on my skin.