#thoughtsofadyingmind
This is NOT a poem.
This is a ****** up scenario.
a cracked mirror
inside is a complex personality and a broken soul
that will forever be a mess. A beautiful mess.
From there, lovers both clasping a cutting edge stand face to face with a broken smile and whispering goodbyes.
May 18, 2017
May 18, 2017 at 2:33 PM UTC
"Is anybody there?" she cried helplessly..
A girl stuck in a dark tunnel - lost and alone.
The more she screams, the more silent it becomes.
The deafening silence overpowers.
Tick..tock..tick..tock..
Time is running out
Fear grows inside her
Consuming every ounce of hope she has.
In the midst of all came a boy who was once lost.
No one knows what happened next.
Jul 14, 2017
Jul 14, 2017 at 6:33 PM UTC
As the new dawn
glimpse over the rotten conurbation,
hope arises with auspicious smile
Rays of sunlight
beaming her serene countenance
right before the grimes and ashes
of her horrendous past makes its way;
Annihilating the permanent damage
the besmirch had caused.
Because one can never outslick
the twinge of affliction.
But,
'Today is a good day'.
Jul 14, 2017
Jul 14, 2017 at 6:46 PM UTC
152,097,701 km;
Days are longer
Nights grew shorter
We are at our most distant
Slowly slipping away
I can't reach you anyway
Stars and skies
are in your eyes;
You compose my every galaxy
Like the orbit,
you provide circuit;
You are my lifeline
Today I woke up
July is what it shows in the calendar
and it's the time of the year
where the Earth is farthest from the Sun.
Like me to you.
Jul 18, 2017
Jul 18, 2017 at 8:46 PM UTC
Gunshot straight at one’s own head
This is not a Russian Roulette,
but a game that aims to forget - for its chambers
each loaded with a bullet.
No point in spinning the cylinder
At any rate, she will pull the trigger.
Gunshot straight at one’s own head
For all the guilt and regret
That will endlessly chase until the last gasp for air
Imperiling; Suffocating
Gunshot straight at one’s own head
For all the shared walks and late night talks
Of faded moments of laughter and giggles
Of traded sentiments trapped in an instance of felicity.
Gunshot straight at one’s own head
For all the petty fights and struggling rights.
Words trip through disheveling minds
falling into a pit of abysmal distress.
Gunshot straight at one’s own heart
For this undying, imperishable memories
Not even a bullet and its fast-paced release
could make it vanish..
And now I ran out of ammos.
Jul 29, 2017
Jul 29, 2017 at 6:16 AM UTC