Life and Blood
I enjoy the feeling of walking alone barefooted
on the bed of dry leaves in the forest.
The crispy feeling and sound under my feet
sounds like Life is so good.
Looking at the beauty of thick tall leafy trees,
I can see the passing glance of the sunlight whispering
something that I fail to hear.
I am convinced that there is more and I want it.
God must be an Artist.
But there's a problem.
I am scared this feeling might disappear.
I can sense a huge monster breathing heavily
staring at my moves waiting to attack anytime.
I am screaming without words.
Reaching out without reaching anybody.
It's like gnashing of teeth.
I have built strong walls around me
and here I am in the center of desolate and despair,
wishing for a company that I do not really want.
My sight blurred under circumstances of Childhood.
It is a lonely and a dusky house, everyday fighting for survival
existing without living, dragging decaying soul to paint
these walls beautifully for the offspring.
Do you have an idea what happens to the hot cup of tea
when its vapour gradually cease?
My prayers are against this evil
not to desiccate blood out of my veins and leave empty shell before my Sunrise.
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