Sunday, June 6, 2010

After 365 Days of Writing Poetry

emptiness floats,sunk in,

trapped in the web lines

of palest days

and restless nights.

above the cracked land

marched an army of frogs

pestings,wrestlings on the mud

over the tainted water

of the shallow pond.

twisting,bending my mind

to flow to the next level;

on curvature of cruelty to-self.

not the dreams of rain

could stop my heart

from mirroring the bursting,

bombings of rotating emotions;

that lurks in dark blowing wind

leaving each lashes

of my coal ,cold eyes

closed and stayed with the night

to give way the black pearls

rolled on my grayish cheek,

like rainwater marbles,bursting all day.

a year ago that was me.

i've danced to the given chance;

to use my pen against evening chills,

to melt the barb wires burried in my heart.

in flickers of speed

of complete revolution of days,

splinter wounds hurt still

and my writings are crap as ever.

still,i don't belong here.

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