Wednesday, July 15, 2009

For my 'pain'



I lay in a room as dark as a crypt,
The dark chamber tells me a story of Gothic death.
Let these whispers reach you
and the story will unfold to be yours too.

When the wheel of pain stops turning
I will go home.
And you will be left alone..

The dark specters will follow you then,
though I blend into the dark
as a fugitive in the black coffin.

Today this dark pain is mine.
Tomorrow it will be yours.
As the dark alleys are scary to me now,
you will fear the sun-painted streets then.

The intruders will crush your heart
and the pain would croon like it burns you.
Ecstasy and laughter will be a poster on the wall.
Stuck there just to stare at
bringing no meaning to your sense of being.


Oh, the one I ‘love’,
Today you stifle me with pain.
When the wheel of pain stops turning
I will go home...
And you will be left alone

blinded by the cuss of your own sermon.

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