A SPARK ESCAPED FROM HELL

My life is a nightmare that fate embellishes with scenes of horror. I was born in the bowels of misery, my heart crushed by rage and terror. I know the stench of battlefields, the taste of a child soldier’s tears, I’ve seen all the demonic faces that the angel of death can wear. My impure soul is a cemetery of eloquent pains, In my mind tormented by human savagery, only indelible stains. I have seen lonely mothers bury their fears beneath shrouds of silence, Traumatized fathers fading upright, eyes nailed to absence. I’ve walked straight upon the ruins of my own desolation, Beneath a sky where scarred stars bleed without cessation. My past haunts me, a pale specter with slitted eyes, It whispers blasphemies backward, in thunderous cries. My skin is armor, forged from mute scars, My wounds are oaths that love shattered into shards. I am a child of darkness, orphaned of light, A stray tightrope walker, on a thread of dust in flight. Yet in the furnaces of hell, however faint, a divine spark persists, A fragment of rebellious life that sorrow cannot extinguish. I take risks to erase this ocean of suffering, I sail against the current on a sea of untrusting. My dreams are leaking rafts tossed by indifference, Yet I still row, guided by the instinct of resistance. My nights are filled with screams no ear can catch, Forgotten faces that my memory cannot detach. I live among shadows, I speak to the gone, I console my ghosts who weep within my blood alone. My days are duels between the fall and the rise, A silent pact between the abyss and a last try. My color wears the mourning of futures cut down, Yet in the blaze of my tears, something walks on unbound. I am the gravel voice of a world betrayed, The witness of a century in ruins, by forgetfulness decayed. I no longer beg for peace — I forge it from my torment, I carve my convictions in stone to defy my lament. For even the damned can script their liberation, Transform their pain into a proud declaration. And if I must fall, let it be standing, unrepentant to the core, With my traumas as epitaph, and my courage as accord.