My Battered Soul

No words I’ve to depict For my battered soul Snared inside your soul Yearning to get out of it Like the script of my poem Of the languished agony Burst out of my heart In a piece of the course paper. Not known to me, If my eyes blinded Or freshly awakened, My longing for fits of passion, Fragrances of the flower And the rustlings of the heartbeat Swept me far, far away to the place I never have been to, Where no other, but silence muses. My soul, aloof and hidden, is Shattering, with fresh scratches All over the skins of the earth, And vanished in the darkness Of the dark night soaked with tears. Moon, not being aware of any sorrow In its absence, consoles By showing the deep scratches in its face - It’s indeed the inner feelings Of my battered soul. *