Why are my eyes,
so keen about lying?
Why does my mouth,
keep silent to crying?
Why do I continue,
to play with my words?
As if I am not,
another sheep in the herds?
Why am I a victim,
to these circumstances?
Why do they all cast me,
so subtle these glances?
Why do I etch,
to scream black to eternity?
Why do I wish,
to succumb white to insanity?
Why are my thoughts,
begging to be so outrageous?
Why are their cries,
already seeming so contagious?
Why did this have to happen,
to someone like me?
Why am I not the humanitarian,
that I would like to be?
YOU ARE READING
Poesy of Eloquence
Poetry❝ this tragedy is soaked with tears that dry the ink in my hands. ❞ ━ the poesy I've yearned to release ever since I taught myself to pick up the pen and write. ❝ for if the painting of my words be the garden upon the gate of heaven, glimpse them...
