To burn like an ember is of no
worth till one doesn't glow like an
ember.

Our minds are so morbidly scary
In bouts of silence and dark
That we can imagine death, destruction, blood, A SPARK.

Knives cutting holes in our paper-thin skin,
Kids throwing rocks till their brains turn pulpy,
Bridges rocking and creaking, skin hitting ice,
Smashing our souls on concrete..

It cures a hidden desire, worse than lust or need or want.

And on that note:
The world is turning
And with it, morbid minds.

My ineffable feelings are those voids inside me that can only be filled with my designed cluster of words.

I am not stubborn. Rather , I am
  nothing beyond a soul who can't
  dare to rebel against her own inner    
  voice.

When clusters of anxieties roam inside me i try to read the blank last page of my life.

For concealing myself from the wicked eyes of melancholy , I tightly hug reverie and melt into its fragrance on intertwining with it as a twinkling soul.