it is upto us
to choose,

whether these times
are going to be long
forgotten years,
rotten with bigotry,
stinking of nothingness

or as a testimony
for the times when we
burned our minds and souls
as embers on a cursed night
to never look for the sky ever
in search of a false hope.

His symphony,
blossomed the wrecked hearts
and compelled the angels
to descend from heavens

He then smiled
to the godly creations in awe,
bowed and left

for he had his own demons
to exercise and control
every single night

an angel was the last thing
he wanted

In the Madhouses,
everyone's insanity
is up to the brim
and pitch perfect

they are howling's
and scares of restlessness
but nothing is hidden inside.
it's like the soul
possessed by the heart

all are in the neverland
hallucinating on free will,
waiting for eminent death
with open arms,

but then again,
they cannot earn, be social and
breed for deemed to dangerous
for a society as their minds
are too weak and heart too strong.

I sometimes wonder,
where does the madhouses really lie?
within their boundary or outside?

We are the mere shores
and love is the turbulent sea
separated and united
at the same time.

to yearn to meet
and pass this great sea
is to face and gratify it,
knowing that it's turbulence
can erode us away anytime.