Our stories are best told by us
This image you see shines with more magnificence than you'd imagine- If it was cracked in more places than the lines across your heart, It would be crashed to crystal grains and you, by the hurt. If it was crashed, even evenly scattered o'er wrong places, Your beauty would still be bathed in better
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I lead in loathsome regard, The unwelcome lullaby of mosquitoes. Eyelid flutter After Eyelid flutter, I slap my face in sleep when they pause their creepy chorus to indulge in the brew of my blood. One of my two windows has an ugly wink, Like a one-eyed widow, Widowed by a random stone from the heinous hands of
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I attempted to walk an empty land, Where empty talks stalk the destiny of muted echoes... In that strange land, I learnt a thing or two about love and laughter, Yet I found it strange that chaos can come with the charm of merry mornings. I went to the gate man, To get why men
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God must be a poet, To mould mountains like mystic rhymes, To keep hills in ageless youth at all times, Just as He preserves the loudly faithless, the hateful, the hopeless... And those whose fate is hidden in worse ellipses. He must be the perfect poet, To hide the scream of streams and reverse the wild
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I once was calm but now I'm shaken, Awoken by noises louder than the screams in my dreams. Quickly living, slowly dying, I'm lain among the filth strewn along streets so dusty, For I owe poverty every coin drop in this steel cup so rusty, Which you pass past fast, every time you walk
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Sing me a silent song, Sting me with soft sounds to soothe my wounds. Steal me, make me still and calm in soul and mind- Break my breaths with every hug of your tongue on mine. Sing slower, show me how to dance like a lazy wave- Dance, let's dance to the beats of our
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