#051416
With no words in my heart,
You became the cure of my entity.
And how could I,
a man out of nothing,
a man brought out of shame,
of guilt and pride;
How could I, not give you praise?
How I could I withold freedom
For my long lost soul?
Tell me how.
Why?
Why I'm so still
in pouring out these tears?
Why can't I go to bring to You
the glory that You deserve?
Why death felt secured
on bringing itself to me?
Please tell me, why?
I am to choose between two lanes
Of black and white,
Of greater Light and lesser Darkness.
And I no longer should linger
On the multi-shades of gray,
The color of my past
That disgusting disguise,
That trail of disobedience,
That habitual sin of impurification.
Yes, I will choose.
I am tired,
Tired of resisting the pull of trigger
To finally hold me to eternity,
Yet eternity would meant darkness
If I'd live in and out of that cell in crypt.
I became tired.
I would never find an ending full of laughters,
But of fraud, lies, despise and insult.
I would never find peace of the true North
For once, I preferred the three confusing routes.
So, never is a beginning.
I am healed.
Healing came in to my life,
My wounds were painted with crystal-clear blots,
Of red as stains, a heartbeat of a child.
I paused for a moment
Until moments were brought to halt.
My injury is pain itself,
Yes, it's painful but eyes were so gentle
To screenshot the emerging revival.
Death is cured.
May 14, 2016
May 14, 2016 at 10:28 PM UTC
#051416
With no words in my heart,
You became the cure of my entity.
And how could I,
a man out of nothing,
a man brought out of shame,
of guilt and pride;
How could I, not give you praise?
How I could I withold freedom
For my long lost soul?
Tell me how.
Why?
Why I'm so still
in pouring out these tears?
Why can't I go to bring to You
the glory that You deserve?
Why death felt secured
on bringing itself to me?
Please tell me, why?
I am to choose between two lanes
Of black and white,
Of greater Light and lesser Darkness.
And I no longer should linger
On the multi-shades of gray,
The color of my past
That disgusting disguise,
That trail of disobedience,
That habitual sin of impurification.
Yes, I will choose.
I am tired,
Tired of resisting the pull of trigger
To finally hold me to eternity,
Yet eternity would meant darkness
If I'd live in and out of that cell in crypt.
I became tired.
I would never find an ending full of laughters,
But of fraud, lies, despise and insult.
I would never find peace of the true North
For once, I preferred the three confusing routes.
So, never is a beginning.
I am healed.
Healing came in to my life,
My wounds were painted with crystal-clear blots,
Of red as stains, a heartbeat of a child.
I paused for a moment
Until moments were brought to halt.
My injury is pain itself,
Yes, it's painful but eyes were so gentle
To screenshot the emerging revival.
Death is cured.
Request permission to use this poem