Hatred in a misinterpretation of what
people think I linger in. I have no aversion
to this thought process, I just choose what
I know is true.

That understanding of facts where those who
delve to regurgitate inconsistences upon myself.
Why do you wish to ascend your misgivings on
me when like a viper all that is bitten upon is untruths.

Repugnance on a belief where I have non, free thought
facts and realistic virtues are what my life is based upon.
But you spite me as I am not held back I reject your
inaccuracies that have taken over a cognitive thought.

Deities are like clothes so many have been and then
like fickle thought, kicked to the curb for the
newest trendiest misgivings of whom to blame for
what we have subdued on ourselves no other to blame.

*"I have objections to inaccurate speculation
where truth just doesn't seem to connect on thought,

They pull a string, she jerks her head,
They say ‘do this’, ‘ok’ she says.
Bound by the strings that’s where she’ll go,
Never feeling more alone.

But her head is wooden, it cannot feel.
They choose her story, that’s the deal.
So her smile it glistens, her heart is sings,
Whilst bound to eternity by the strings.

They burn and mark her skin so fair,
She curls up tight and says a prayer.
But the time has come to take a stand,
To rise to the challenge, no helping hand.

As the sun falls and the night creeps in,
She prepares to commit the most wickedly sin.
Whilst they cast her away and let arrogance fly,
She had been keeping a watchful eye.

The almighty blades, they shone in the light
She hurled herself forward, they were in plain sight.
The sting of cold metal, it gave her a rush,
As she cut the strings, with a final PUSH.

They pull a string and I’m not there,
They say ‘do this’ and I don’t care.
I see their game, but they can’t see me,
As I watch from behind the curtain with glee.

Let your heart drown in tears
To cleanse away the wound
From it shall spring eternal fountain
Of inspirations, to open your heart
To Love, Hope, and inspiration
Muses will come to drink from it
And poetry shall flow through you
Every particle of you enamored
By the sweet water, flows eternally
Replenish the soul and turn the tide
To delve deeper in to self-belief
And, embrace knowledge to fight a stormy world
Poetry is the panacea for a recuperating soul
For there is the eternal fountain to drink from*



















© Amitav (Radiance)

And everything turns to ****,

but it’s not like I’m a professional.

All this time I spent lying to myself,

and only now did I get it.

*******. If you don’t understand this now,

then you’re not supposed to.

There’s no flavor, no reason, nothing.

No mark to be made.

No accomplishment will define you.

All this time I spent lying to myself.

I have my chance to move forward

and I’m trying.