I am a caged lion,
A tempestuous intention.
A soul in revolt.
I jump out of the windows
Of my sanity
Just to go back into
This utter shamefulness
Of lost love
Rue and gut-out alley brawls.
Sometimes, I bleed
But they’re just testimonies
To how my soul sifts through
Daggers and flames.
That is how it works;
You go through the flame
And they laugh at the cicatrix,
Your force-feeding,
Your encumbrance.
Sometimes I’ve a laughing heart
But that happens only
When you’ve a flame soldered
To your cynosure
Most of the time
Now that the clocks croon
My demise,
I’ve a heart, yes
But as austere as it may seem
What an empty room
It is.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem