'Green blue of the sky
heated white-hot'
Vincent saw, what we could not
captured through an artists eye
he put aside his pain
to give us fields of lavender
and glorious scented rain

Sleep is an endless journey,
only the dead can complete
Time is the fortune you can never
afford to have enough of
Love is the tie dye of the different
worn out emotions, of the shirt you say
Faith is the picture frame of the
final art piece, you hope will be portrayed
And sin is the spilled ink on a paper;
the more you try to wipe off yourself, the more
stains you're still left to see.

We live for any few more seconds of sleep,
constantly on this life's limited time to do it all
Trying to have a consistent abstract pattern  of our love
always picturing what our faith can paint in the end
Yet we are all stained by our born sin,
                    -we are truly humans till the end.

Today's my last day
I've been informed by the scythe wielder
Every human born must be taken away
If it's up or down,conclusion is the final offer

Life seems so much simpler now
Like reaching the end of a river
All the ebbs and flows, a viewer's window
Seems so beautiful now,flowing water

A day is too less
Everyone says the same, says the dark visitor
I'm stuck with all these goodbyes
An eternal hug for my mother
Are all I want for my last day

These little monsters
Follow me around.
I need to run,
Outrun them now.

They run miles,
But never slow down.
Living in my head
Until I am dead.

Shall they follow me
To the grave?
Six feet under,
But there they lay.

Would they
Still have life,
If I am to die?
Would they still speak whispers
Into my mind?

For they are infested
Into mine.

But what am I thinking?
My enemy is me.
I am unkind to myself,
Left my senses to flee.

They are just a small
Depiction of myself.

For I am not them,
Nor anyone else.

𝑇𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑢𝑠𝑡
𝐹𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑚𝑒...
𝐺𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑝𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑒
𝑇𝑜 𝑚𝑒...
𝐼'𝑙𝑙 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑠;
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑜𝑓  𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑜𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑢𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑠...