Zeki Majed | + Follow Poet |
Prose | + Fav Poem | Comment | Email | Print |

The World In Monochrome

I was given passion.
I was given eyes that fall in love.
All of them betrayed me
and whisper that I’m not enough.

I tried to breathe, stubborn and be,
but all they could ever see,
is someone who’s not worthy of being free.
So I ask God, to let me flee, but he is one with mercy.

I rise to see another day, less of pain.
It seems the colors all just fade.
The world around me turns to gray,
I didn’t say I want to stay, but I suppose this is okay.

I do not wish to see my mother’s face,
be the place where rivers grace.
Nor my father’s chest be the breast that’s set on fire,
so I’ll keep watching the world outside my window in monochrome,
until all the mercy God has to offer, retires on its own.

I’ve been all but cruel and all but a liar,
I am a child, that’s tired and cold.
Told, the world holds heroes and souls,
much like mine, but I feel so alone.

I am fascinated by the ink that spreads, when I touch paper.
I breathe to write and this pain I savor.
Though sooner or later, I must not be me,
so I can make everyone be, happy.

And I sadly cannot keep up,
I run, but the wind grabs my arms and calls upon the sun.
It won’t let go and I say that I am done,
but all they show is mercy, they say that is has come.

I rise to see another day,
far from prayers and far from my old ways.
Ungrateful men, that choose to stay,
turn to break, the bonds they’ve made.

They soak in sin.

The tears I wiped, bloomed a grin.
Sinister and empty within.
Perhaps mercy, is a line so thin.
The divine should not have let us win.

So we are now free,
I, punished for being me.
I asked for mercy and I got mine,
I am the evil, one so vile.

I still breathe and still I peek through smiles,
the world around me cries in black and white
and I just dived inside a can, I’ll blend or I just might,
inside my mind I’ll strive to fight and shine in bright, colors.

I’ll be right here, until my soul has suffered,
caged inside a mind, locked away from others.
Mercy is my death, ignorance – regret,
I hope that God never bothers to read the poetry I have suffered and the ink I have bled.

Maybe, mercy instead?

Please Login to post a comment