CRY

Tonight, my soul shall dance with the fading hymn of devotion for you. I shall rest my heart from the trouble of desolation and rejection. Maybe soon, when this gash of space is occupied I shall once again dance the hymn of love. Yes, all this is predestined to happen and I accept with open arms the corollary of my verdict. I shall NOT run after the seventh heaven. I am tired of this quest for LOVE. Along the concourse of my broken imaginings, the road shall drenched of acidic anxiety. The night has come and so my soul shan't sing any more songs of bliss. Shan't cry for aid to the anonymous. Shan't hope to saved. Amidst all that I have considered, I look out to the blankness of the long journey ahead of me. Dark, dark clouds cloud my vision and I am in anticipation of what lies across the darkness. The world around me is splitting into two. Divisions of good reminiscence and euphoric memoirs. I have burned mine long ago. There is no sense of brooding over the unfamilliar. I have given up the resolution of fidelity; I have isolated my whole from your science. This segment might just be astranger passing by or it maybe my soul waking me to veracity. And if all stages will surely close, let the rain fall down and burn me breathing.

I walk the distance away from you. I embrace myself from all these insecurities. This feeling of negative response is causing my eyes to wet with tears. I choke on their deafening screeches of nuisance day after day. I hold back my tears. I stop myself from crying my blemishes to their raging faces. Everyone trying to pull my distinction down. How can I find myself the strength to fight back? when I have lost all else the will to survive. I stare at my hands, wounds bleeding. blood wont stop. I shrieked my silent pain to the world. Look at me now, see me beyond the facade of a beautiful face. See the scratches of questions etched on every line of my pelt. See the emptiness that continously cloud my soul. I kneel down, my knees weak. my heart tired. I am shaking from the aches of melancholic philosophies. Nobody sees. Every inscription of words, every trickery of this game I play, every guesswork is a step towards my true identity. Who amongst these crowd faces shall buy time to aid my miserable whole? I shiver from all the pains of wrong parody. I cover my ears. I hear nothing. Nothing. This time I cry my eyes out with blood. Endless grieving over my entireness. I cannot take this throbbing anymore. I see a knife. And I taste my own blood. I close my eyes in deep slumber.