These foolish scholars give me knowledge that has been broken;
because these such mistakes have finally been spoken.
And now I am deprived of all my feelings,
and I am tired of all these things, useless with no meanings.
So you, with an identity as the sweet maiden of doom,
please let the flowers in my garden finally bloom.
Let me escape these flailing tendrils of despair,
for I am but a humble servant who has fallen in your care.
And please attest to this solitude and loneliness,
for I am being pestered by this personality called unfriendliness.
Please rely upon my dismissal from this hell,
because now it has made me only a half of my shell.
Please attest to the flocks of these wailing laughs,
who, but me, they have only torn in halves.
Please attest to ending my wicked life,
and forbid my innocence becoming my only strife.
But for yonder, please heal my sanity;
for I am already on the brink of this insanity.
And I know that I may not live through this,
lest I be drowned in the epitome of bliss.
So take hold of the knives you hold dear,
and strike me, leave me with nothing more to fear.
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...
