Tell me do you feel it?
How's your skin is itching?
And your fingertips are twitching?
It's like I'm being hunted
In my own fucking mind.
By some brutal ideas that want to feast on my pleasurable suffering.
Tell me do you feel it?
The sour taste of being 'fake'
Just a 'FAKE', but the realest person out there.
oh, but I'm a 'fake' that can't afford to be real.
I'm hunted,
By all the shit I stored in a marble box
Inside my mind I put it, far away where I can not reach.
In a place called my 'memory'
Laugh all you want.
But one day I'll grab this marble box,
Even if it burns me.
I'll hold it till my hands turn white.
Then I will crash it till the smallest shreds shine a bright white light.
A special light made out of my dried tears.
A light that will turn into a sharpened sword.
With every swing I will slash whatever hunts me.
I never wanted to be trapped in my own head where anything can hurt me,
I never wanted to feel the rope around my thoughts gets tighter.
But I will wait, Isn't that what we all do?
waiting...
YOU ARE READING
The Rise of A Beating Heart
PoesieA Book filled with poems sewed by my deepest feelings. It's when I began to live for what I write and write what makes me feel alive. The Rise of A Beating Heart is where I exist in each and every line.
