I lived in my own world
For a while
Cutting off myself
From the world outside
Lost in my fleeting thoughts
Writing at random
Whatever mind crossed
May be it was
Just to incomprehend comprehensible thoughts
Under the law of tort
Couldn't be brought
Court to dispense justice
Grateful to some people
Making sense of my nonsense
Dealing with tragedy and trauma
I'll bite my tongue til it's black and blue.
Tongue tied by karma
And repetitive thoughts of you.
Can't let you know it all,
And risk giving you more power over me.
I can only trust and pray to the powers that be.
I suffer in silence
Every single day.
I only have this one life
And I don't see another way.
Yes I wish things were different,
But it always stays the same.
Maybe from my cowardice,
Or is it because I'm brave?
I ask Him every single morning,
"Why, just why?"
And all I get is silence,
So I cling to hope that whatever's meant for you,
Will never pass you by.
The days get longer,
With less and less excitement
Life becomes boring.
And the late nights cease,
To wake up for the early sun,
For another long day.
It never really seems to end.
Here I am-
Trapped in a cycle
Of my own unhappiness.
Where I torture myself.
They sealed my eyes
They stabbed me
With their words
Their inner snakes
All it is
Over collection of stones
Turning them lime
More like chrome
Older I'm getting
Feeling all weary
Deeper with regrets
Just allowing it to rain
Maybe I should have
Tried to confuse fate
Causing this heaviness
Dwelling on this pale page
romantic love is the worst torture another human can inflict on another. even the terrorists aren't even that cruel. love ones self to avoid the pain.
الحب الرومانسي هو أسوأ عذاب يمكن أن يلحقه إنسان آخر بآخر. حتى الإرهابيون ليسوا بهذه القسوة. حب النفس لتجنب الألم.
I've lost track of my emotions
Am I happy
Am I sad
I can never decide
Each day merging with the last
Succession of regret
A recession of myself
Take me back
Back when I could still feel
I have no feelings left to feel
a million pieces
it is how my dreams have become
little by little
every little break a little
multiply and increase
By next month
I'd be counting the billionth one
the reality is too real
I see nothing ticks my list
and I am slowly learning to accept
I am getting there
Now the darkness took over
The dreams I see in the night
My back of eyelids
grant me the solace
From the daily torture of day ones
Sometimes I see a face
who know how to sew those pieces
it is better I stay clear
These broken pieces would make a beautiful mosaic
But any tear ahead will be the sudden death,
I'd be too distorted for any new wreck.
The reality is a torture
You are not here.
When in my dreams
We are still
Steel gazes graze the fine lines of iron.
“Tin man, whom does your heart beat for?”
A man asks - voice roaming, ringing bells and bashing gongs.
For a moment all is still.
The shrill clanging of metal stops, the heavy puffs of air suspend.
The tin man looks at him and smiles.
“For myself good sir.”
The answer given adequate time, silence and negative space - the man responds.
“Yourself? Sanity and livelihood or selfishness and arrogance?”
The tin man stood quiet once again.
He had laboured for those who did not labour for him,
Given oil, rust and dirt for those who only lived to use and to hurt.
Why would he beat to give when those who would get spoke only to take?
“I once beat for others. I once donned flesh and matter, but it left me as a shell of myself - a diminished core and deafening chest.”
“I encountered a being of whimsical strength, who woke me up and took my shell to then place a pearl within me.”
“I now beat for myself as gratitude to him who lifted me up when all I could do was lay down.”
The man grabbed him round the neck, nails marking and whispered.
“Dear child, you’ve gotten it the wrong way round.”
“Your pearl was given to be taken away, to return you into the shell of the past."
And the tin man took those words, looked away and continued,
Walking off with the girl and her dog.
Away from the wizard, entrapping himself.