It's taking its tool...
Why does it have to be me?
I seem to be in an ennui, Getting caught and trapped:
The straws I grab still breaks. And there I am
At another losing end. It happens all the time.
The wound leaves its cicatrix. I could not just put a square peg in a round hole.
It's a haunting thought...
A spectre that shadows the very principle of things.
This is a mere fact that only my being
Knows the very root. I see... I hope...
And fail. You can't have it if not meant.
I could always feign. Yes but
It's my very mind that suffers the anguish
And the damnation of reality...
——The Savage Reality!
It's my very soul that perceives the pangs
of the consequences.
It's a matter of choice but
Which is the lesser evil?
If I speak, I'm condemned.
If I stay silent, I'm damned.
The sound of silence is a bow...
The jagged bow that pierces
The deepest recesses of my soul...
——Embedded in my system!
The blood oozes and floods
Drowning the tears
That never manifest.
The spell lingers,
And being free from its confining clutches
Is an elusive thought. Yet, let this be
A weapon, adding strength to the force.
Let the silence be transcending...
Let the silence be a cry for help...
Let the silence be a refuge....
——A prayer!
©️Atty. Catherine Pariño
2019
