How should I personify my life this time?
Which story will I be wrapping up with a lie?
And Will I remember the tales that I convey?
Or will i forget them just like any other day?
Ropes wrapped around me, dragging me down
Hair pulled backwards, cracking my neck
Arms going to different directions, pulled apart
Eyes leaking blood and disappointments
Lungs shrunk in – no more breaths
– No more life.
And he glanced at her, moving head sideways
Either he was admiring or trying to understand
Admiring the gush of blood and ripped out body
Understanding her pain, her sorrow, her darkness
He stood still, and she never recovered.
Her humanity was declining
Her emotions, evaporating
She grasped her heart
And ripped her humanity out
But to live with this body
She needed to place her brain
In her chest,
Driving the circulation.
So now she lives her life
Satisfied by logic and science
That are circulating
To every organ in her body
Thinking and feeling
With the same organ
Exasperating her brain
Until her body was put to rest
In a valentines day.
Into the memories
Of my sins..
The last one
On the floor..
Out of Life..
In the beginning,
You write for yourself.
Trying to express the battles,
That you’re constantly fighting within you
Wearying every breath you take
While you elaborate every detail.
As you exhale
Its as if one enemy down.
And as you inhale again
You take a stab..
In a distinctive agonising memory.