Circles
I’ve been spinning in the same small circle,
as if lost inside a dance.
I’m cold and my lips turned purple,
I’ve been locked and slide towards a trance.
I’ve been in a constant fight,
with someone I never wanted to burn out my light.
I wanted her so bad, to fly,
but she it turns out, is afraid of heights.
And of all the sights in all the worlds,
it’s her eyes that make the planets turn.
For we all yearn that peace, her smile brings along,
and then we burn, the closer we come to dawn.
For I am nothing more than a scared little boy,
that has learned that fire burns and it is not a toy.
Though what’s the point of breathing art,
if I can’t embrace it within my heart.
I often walk these shallow waters,
telling tales of vibrant autumns.
Though I’ve grown old, as time has altered,
and my art has died before an altar.
I seek salvation, in forgetting my name.
I immortalized my lovers, by setting me aflame.
Love is a game, they love to play,
I naive, tortured and slain.
I the flower, born from a grain,
watered in agony and fed with the pain.
Write with the ink, flowing from veins,
of those who have come, here just to reign.
Copyright ©
Zeki Majed
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