poems for the hunted

bury my soul on the side of the street

trapped by tyrants (which I mistook for treasures)

and with my last breath I shall tell this story

I split my tired heart to save it from the catastrophe

and gave half to someone who would hold it for me.

I'd fallen a vicious victim to the manipulation tether

my life no longer my own, ill-fated, although seeking pleasure

inevitably sewn my weary wicked soul shut

tried for treason, and the sole reason - my doomed heart

I'm the outcast who thought love is salvation, but the flood...

the flood proved to us both, one cannot save bad blood.

I can't give up, I thought... I hoped my life would start

but I felt like my heart's been ripped out and stopped.

I got angry, screaming silence, terrified of the monster's core

they were coming with their shovels to bury my soul 

I get on their nerves since I promised the answer I'd seek:

how did my condemned soul get poisoned, please, speak

foolish girl, they said, you have no right to any tomorrows!

I guess the only things deserved by me were sorrows.

I will not lie to myself, the villains probably win in this tale

I say, if you defeat me, don't give me a grave, where I'll go stale

bury my soul on the side of the street... or else I'll go insane

hopefully, there, my lover and I shall meet, and try again.

I can't focus on the things I am while I'm haunted by what I lack

oh, at last, my spirit can rest as my heart grows pale and dark.

my love will hold the other half, even if it decays

but will I manage to watch my half as it disintegrates?

if not, bury my goddamn soul on the side of the road,

for in this story I deserve nothing more.