The ugliness which cannot be artfully decorated,
Among the inexplicable and byzantine complicated,
Longingly looking forward to the patiently awaited.
Easiness is uncontrollably vanishing and moving farther,
Even breathing in and out is becoming so much harder,
I can feel the impossibility of turning calmer,
I can see the light fading, and life becoming darker.
Truth is what sometimes occasions too much of pain,
Hesitation is the dominant addiction for the insane,
Faults made, guilt felt, and blame is taken again,
And limitless repeated questions of how and when.
No answers are anticipated to be clearly given,
Arguments which have been everlastingly hidden,
As the existence of what is titled hell and heaven,
And who would forgive, and who would be the forgiven.
- Although untitled, this poem describes itself
(P) 2013
No comments:
Post a Comment