Mellifluous Murmurs

The World We Live In

The pain is a deteriorating wound that hurts 

immensely

as the word of fortune simmers,

later blurts

into a thousand fragments

and also into a hundred phrases

of which how daring a move

can be precised as an ominous insight;

proves to show how dark the light can be.

A rose, 

blooms into a bun of enticing aches as it surrounded by beautiful petals that chose.

The heart of the shrine and dignity's matter, 

rings a bell in the hollow room of your mind and lights up the dark;

 causing one to utterly and dumbfoundedly statter–

questioning the intelligence of the human mind 

and putting to stake one's mentality,

the doubt of the existence of nature

and the deep cruelty of reality's giving to the ugly side of the fruit

 planted by the seed's embassador. 

But truth, 

is not a triumph of faith,

nor is it a blessing.

The heartfelt soul claims 

every broken chance

may latch on to the feeling that may perhaps drag or it alone wonders and tames

itself onto the broken and shattered heart.

It may seem metaphorical and more, 

but trust an experienced soul,

 because it may open a lucky cavity of truth or rather much, a door.

For

here, 

the keyword is more.

An edge of the dart

can slice your heart open,