Let them

for 3WW’s words for the week : intimate, river, waiting

let the river flow
let the heaven cry,
let the nightingale sing
and touch something
that cannot be seen
by the eye.

allow the intimate wind
whisper something lovely
to everyone’s ears,
show them the scars,
let them know you
are almost healed…

make peace to the sky
as they offer thunder,
keep the soul burning,
waiting,
for limitless color,
for never ending song.

selfish

can’t you feel the tears
can’t you see the pain,
can’t you ever hear
the roaring of my heart
trying to get in
to where i used to reside…

don’t you recognize
the soul that’s been
uneasy yet never
get tired until
you take her
as your own?

have you forgotten
the smell of fear
that’s living
in each and every hole
of my skin,
after you walked out
of my life and
start leading a life
without me as
part of it..?

how would you call this?
selfishness? maybe..
since I’ve forgotten
how to call myself, myself
without you
as the other half of
my so-called me.

tonight

caught between
painful way to heaven
and the smoothest
path to death,
nothing to console me
nothing to soothe my heart.

i had you,
then you’re gone…
stuck in the middle
escape is nowhere to be found.

light can never
satisfy my soul
as the other part of me
leave me for someone
to make him whole.

where is the moon?
heaven’s covering her
from my sight…
tried easing my pain
by pouring me rain
to rock me through
the night…

grieve me
o lovely stars
weep for me…
cry with my heart
tonight…

my place…

world where nice people
are everywhere
but aren’t warm enough…

place where a man can lie
in exchange of an
old good f*ck…

world where women
fights back to escape
an staged life…

world that evolved
in an instant,
where a child is blindfolded
while being eaten
by people he trusted most…

world that allows truth
to be watered down
by politics and fame…

place that permits lies
and welcome sacrifice
as they welcome gain…

world where people
walks under your skin,
then put a dagger
to your heart,
cripple you
and leave you
with no place to begin…

place where they
put out the candle of your soul,
pull everything inside out,
until you are left
with a hollow and empty chamber
within…
then fill you head with
nothing but dark cloud…

i wonder…
how many people
can stumble around,
wounded, in pain
yet, still have the courage
to do it all over again…?

how..?

how come the safest haven
turns into
the most dangerous place
in a blink of an eye?

how can vultures
be able to walk
under the same sun,
oblivious to people’s pain
thinks: “time to play”

how come banal things
can twist your head
and cut you pieces?

why is it
the loveliest memories
have the sharpest teeth?

how come the simplest form
of taking refuge to words
open rivers of tears
and unsettling gaze,
though soul’s painted
you can still feel pain.

how can you be able
to explain the nightmare,
that doesn’t end as
you welcome the sun,
but whispering to you,
in that eerie voice,
that your screams and tears
are just the start.

how will i be able
to teach myself to get rid
of this fear,
when the other half of me
is speaking loudly:
“if you’re no longer scared,
what makes you different
from the dead?”