Why did you tear me off you,
When you knew I’d die without you?
I promised you peaceful sleep,
But you wouldn't hear me.
He was writing his sermon.
He'd locked his room.
He wanted none to break his thoughts.
No one would ever disturb him.
There's a corner in my soul that I call my own,
That I turn to when I'm faced with hamlet's dilemma,
That signals when I'm at the crossroads,
That leads me by hand when I'm lost.
His camouflage struck me the most,
As he lay with his face down,
In a river of murky water,
Murkier by his blood.
Is life being born?
Is it going to school?
Is it having friends?
Is it being in love?
He'd sit on that quiet cold concrete chair
In the playful park,
Would leave when the last child left,
Sipped constantly from the bottle in his pocket,
I held your bloodied face in my hands,
Placed it in my bosom,
First time I found peace with you.
Ten year old two feet monster head;
a fifteen year old with his tongue
popping out of his mouth;
A thirty year old woman,
Mountains always stay distant,
may be the ego in their height.
Oceans always seem so lonely,
may be from its depth and vastness.
She was agony personified,
Wrinkled blackened skin,
Broken teeth and knotted hair,
A baggage of pain on her shoulders,