Cables and weights bearing rust,
Floor mat now wet from sweat,
Fables alive on the towel at last,
Roars and screams, gains I get.
Of the songs I chose to loop,
The beats I kept not listening to,
They get masked by a group,
Of voices, relentless, slipping into.
Numb to the gapes that bled,
Now they bleed as fibres stretch,
Healing brown, shearing red,
Lost in thought, reps till i retch.
Thinking, asking to myself,
If it wasn't taking for granted,
Security that I'll return myself,
Always have, even when unwanted.
Especially then, but what stood,
Between me and the queries?
What stood as I went Robinhood,
Even with answers never asked for?
Bound by materials, and no mind,
Now, hatred and rage filling up,
Against a whole species so fine,
Unlucky, one with the ones I love.
I've become this writer of late,
Tapping on paper or a dim screen,
I'm used to keeping human diaries,
But this is new, a journal I'll keep.
For everything that failed to make,
Long speeches and conversations,
For everyone undeserving this fate,
Mock stories and comic elations.
Ah damn it, as if shards of glass,
Inside, as my shoulder gave away,
The cyst I've been growing fond,
Breaking under rusted weights.
YOU ARE READING
Void Of Morsels- Poetry
PoesíaEvery attempt I made at poetry has been collected inside this book. All good, and bad. Inside, are those poems directly related to my life and otherwise. Thank you, most valuable reader, for taking your time here.
