I wrote with a heavy heart. I couldn't write any deeper because my sanity can't handle that. Just can't. I can't imagine the lives of victim women or any woman. Life brings you face-to-face with realities.
The constant struggle in our life trying to find where we belong. Whether we made the right choice or the wrong one. Trying to figure out the way the world works in its own wicked ways.
I'm lost. and found. was I here before? caught between a mirage and a miracle, maybe!
All I can see is this land, fuming flames of baffled souls bewildered and alone, proliferating through the endless horizon. battle cries and disfigured dreams red skies consuming the last bit of blues.
waiting for a miracle yet trapped in this mirage.
Am I walking backward? forward? or sideways? how can you tell the difference when there is no path but an infinite loop?
Does it matter?
Maybe I am the alchemist that never returned, never found the treasure but gone insane.
clocks that ticked and moments that died, walking upside down for a new perspective. looking for a new people behind the camouflaged outfits, but, they all looks the same. a cry, a smile they all sound the same.
why all the season smells like death? every little poem I wrote turned into a eulogy. for the forlorn hearts and scars they never saw every paradise dream ended up in the wasteland, I'm turning this last bit of blood into ink trying to write a masterpiece so dark, to find the light.
pared off the sanity to feel alive, embracing the scars, carved so deep into my bones in red. how do I know I belong when everyone wears masks to hide the hollow heart? offer me a heart, make me half again. offer a place by the fireplace, behind that inconspicuous window I'll scribble these verses away, a cry into the dark to know the depths.