Saturday, 27 June 2015

THE MUTE

May the heavens grieve with me

The burdened veins on my neck

The hurried congealed tears

The soft moans explains nothing

I am like a stranger in my heart

My own voice scares even my self



May the heavens hear my plea

Am lost in a thousand sea

Dipped in emotionless hiss

I wish I can speak

Both my limbs are weak

Listen as my groans peak

Come to my aid

My pains are drilled with a rig

I am like a dry lonely cold desert

Stabbed and wounded

Like a prized hazard

Experimenting on a frozen gizzard

My only mockery is like that of the lizard

Who after the fall cannot decide

whether to run after the fall

Or smack it's mockers after the fall


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