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Personal Note:

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Poem

the four corners of the 
room
in which i stand feels like 
a tomb.
On a solitude plane
i weigh my existence.
Whilse just sitting and 
looking in a distance.
I see myself wrongly 
propergated.
In this life i call mine 
which I barely dictate
i am pulled side by side 
by chains of society.
I try to move free 
but i can feel no ground 
beneath me.
Like a fly caught in the 
web of loniless the more i 
struggle 
the more the spider of 
regrets draw closer. 
In its eyes it gives me the 
stare of dispair
my cries create echoes
which rather summons 
my foes.
Like vultures to finish off 
my remains.
My body aches from all of 
these quakes.
Quakes emanating from a 
heartbeat of a man in 
pain.
Hurt feels so sweet.
Just waiting for the next
thorn to pierce through 
my heart.
With teeth clenching 
i feel it only in my bones.
I try to defy the odds.
The die is cast but it is 
just even.

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