My Sun never shone.
Where was the night when I want it to be day.
Then it is to be than
of all these in front of me.
Were I to be me or of them.
Whom am I to be,
therefore I want none of theirs;
Only Myself never.
I want none but to run.
This mind won’t give me of all of that.
A circle has no angle on your issue.
My triangle cannot be squared in my own egg of a mind.
When it does,
compounds of complexities do pound,
then to than be stupid simple,
can not be as one.
As we ought to,
need we be always,
what for are we;
stand or walk out of.
is the only one matters.
The vein of my heart endures and ensures,
I just go in and stay upon
capillaries of all jungles those myriad
beyond and above my,
Do all mouths shut.
Maybe they will all cry,
when I am buried not of six feet under.
Only my burnt ash goes where it want to go.
May be that shall be a way out.
Yet I am still bleeding at mine.
and a cancer in my mind;
All of that want that never gets.
Go ahead bark at me you beautiful cloud.
Go ahead take me into the maelstrom of my chaos.
Keep me in your shit leash.
Coz when I come out of this,
You’d have better ways to keep me as a rebel.
In my state,
Lest my mind is not,
It will be my demon weapon.
What with I hear I will always allow.
Where I am in then of yesterday I will steal today.
Why am I supporting that is not now then I am to be,
I cannot believe in.
Inasmuch for what it can,
To make me not to be.
Yes you are lurking in and will always.
A gain of loss,
are the ones of my benefits.
At what advantage all those profits
turn into some disclosure,
than to be claimed as none.
Still the same as then at what now
can be understood,
never be comprehend.
Coz your eyes see none only to compare
the valley despair.
Do the hand of my eye loves a sense of belonging?
Did my eye see the touch of the ears can not follow what is?
Then only in my mind my heart swallows its pride,
than to have a proud life not in shame nor care to blame,
the people left behind who never can follow what happened now
and be kind enough to see how much,
the suffering one can take.
What did my hands hear where the eyes did handle all of these?
When does my ear shut and why must my feet love this hobbit hole in which I am in?
How am I going to handle all of the answers even my heart does mind all of the motions,
and the feelings of all moments passes,
Only the love of a stranger ever grace,
all of this shit,
that I muster.