Wasn't this I wanted to be?
Then why this hate?
Why this screeching of the soul in corner with muffled cries, ogling at my shadow;
I faked climax thrice that night.
Asking myself,
"Why am I a fantasy not love? "
But,
After all this is how I always wanted myself to be, 'STUD'
Wasn't this my own shitty frame to fit in;
So why am I not wanting to be this anymore?
I've walked alone in no moon nights, with my hands in my hoodie to feel someone holding my hand.
My innocence was brutally murdered in the broad daylight,
With my mind ending up punishing the non-guilty.
I pray to come over this so called human nature.
O my master, where are you?
Your man is disowned by its soul;
Bless me with my innocence or take my heart away.
I console myself for hours before I sleep just to fail,
The first thought which wake me up are, I won over before I fell asleep.
I don't want anybody to be like me,
That's how much I detest myself, ATM.
My last hopes of emotional resurrection have passed away,
I watched them suffocate.
Is it necessary die, for my soul to get back what it has lost?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'Why am I a fantasy not love? ' - Fantasy is raw and love is the finished product.