Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Open Door or closed?

At death's door

Once more.

Yet another part of me dies.

The silence that engulfs the tomb of my love

Is taking me towards the darkness again.

How many more blighting assessments?

Hasn’t the countdown begun as yet?

I’m sick of it. The pain, infact, seems to live with me now.

Shares every breath with me, the darned witch.

I’m starting to learn to cut the winds of wretch.

Starting to unfold my wrinkles of misery.

Starting to learn how to dry my eyes.

Starting to pink it again, the walls of my heart.

And it happens quickly.

The rain sets in again. I start to feel the cool.

But why cannot the sunshine be with my shadow?

They have this tiff which smothers me.

I wanna be blithe, you know.

And I wanna be in fine feather.

I wanna have the ace in my hand.

Wish I stand up with every lightening that abashes me to the earth.

Wish I could live staunch with the scars.

Wish I could have a life I can never have.

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