Hatred Of Life, By Living Flesh Poem by Thabani Khumalo

Nobody colloquially knew about my destination,
when I was a child slowly traveling a mysterious path.
I quietly went alone into the dark future -
and I didn't foresee anything beautiful coming into place,

I thought alone and shared no story from my aberrated brain;
endeavors flubbed and I didn't afford to make any girl happy -
which is why I couldn't make any girl cry
and I deeply missed her tears falling onto my chest -
this is the thing that made me weep and decry on every gulp of leaving breath.

I wished in anger and in sores of excruciating pain,
for the most beautiful girl of old to return again,
but the lord of destiny had been amused by another dreadful trick:
the hatred of life, by timed and breathing flesh.

One easy morning rose with a thorny breeze pricking my skin,
a full smile came across my face to vanquish just a little worry
and momentarily untangled the tidal rage that covers the heart of my scared soul,
it freed my nerves from the tensions and the heavy thoughts of my whirling mind:

when I saw you budge into my bittersweet desolation with tears brimming in your eyes,
I knew you had a story from your thoughts you wanted to tell from the heart.
I covered all your sorrows right between my arms and you felt my heart beating harder in my chest -
my heart bled again where it broke when I was a little child -
and I brought tears of horror again throughout the night.

Now some of my destinations are intended straight into your house,
where I get to hold you tight into my chest like an occultics' secret -
every living person now wants to unravel the mysteries of the nocturnal cult,
and you begin to recite every bit of your life through a soothing whisper -
in a beautiful wave of words I can dream about in my challenging sleep - forevermore.

Yet my heart is burning like a fire of hell in the gut,
Alone, I wiggle as though I have chilli powder in my eyes;
I am raving about starting a physical war upon the planet earth
and burying murdered corpses into the fossil level of the ground.
I cannot expressively love anyone from the heart on this earth,
for I only know how to put restraint on my ghetto personality of sadistic murder.