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Poetry and Prose

Yo. My works all here. Will be updated as and when I come up with new works. Feel free to email me with your comments. Flames also welcome. Just try not to flood my inbox with mails full of hate and vituperation.

Bleeding

They see me, the picture of nonchalance and good humor. They see me, the personification of the word "carefree". They think I'm strong, for I didn't weep for the passing of a loved one, but instead chose to be a pillar of strength for the others around me. They didn't see me bleed, for I did it all inside, in the silences of my heart. And they didn't understand, for they didn't know who I was, only who I appeared to be.

I couldn't weep, because I forgot how. Since the day that my loved one left me, a part of my heart died within me. Still, no one understood. I didn't understand then either, for I was young. All I knew, was that I was empty, the flame within me flickering and dying. And they thought that I didn't understand what happened, but I did, better than them.

I couldn't bring myself to weep, to grieve, because then I would be weak, weak enough to allow the torrents of emotions to overwhelm me. I could not afford that, for if I collapsed, what would happen to the people around me? So, I bled inside, from a wound never healed.

A year passed. And another. And yet another. By then, most had forgotten. But I could not, would not. And then I thought, maybe I could weep, maybe I could grieve, maybe I could finally heal.

But it was in vain. I had forgotten how it was to be whole. For now my entire existence centered on the emotions that kept me strong in the face of tragedy. Hate. Anger. When one could not love, one could grieve, or they could hate, shielding themselves from the hurtful world. I had grown hard from the bitterness deep within, but yet none could perceive it. No one noticed me, for I had always proved to be able of taking care of myself.

And so, I suffer in silence, writhing in the grips of internal torment, a knife twisted deeply within me. I hear the voices of my inner demons mocking me, taunting me, feeding me with more hatred, more anger. And I find myself tumbling deeper into the darkness.

I loved the night, for in its silence, no one could see me bleed, no one to see my weakness. In the darkness, I could immerse myself in the comforting silence, mourning what I had lost. In the darkness, I didn't need to hide, either from myself or the cruel world around me.

I wanted to stop bleeding, to stop suffering. But I couldn't, wouldn't. If I were to stop, what would become of me? Would I wither away? Or would I finally heal? I didn't dare to try, for I was weak, a coward.

Or maybe I relished the pain. I tormented myself for I enjoyed the pain, for it wiped away the grief, the sorrow. I found a morbid solace in pain, finding possiblities where others see only despair.

You could call me a fool, a weakling, a coward. I wouldn't care. I was too far gone to care. I was too tired to care...

Memory

A quiet whisper. Echoing above the gentle sighs of a melancholy wind. I kneel in silent memory of a past long gone. A lonely figure silhouetted in the fading light.

The light around me cast a million shadows, dancing, writhing, in an unholy display. All around, cloaked in a sourceless gray, the color of fresh forged steel. Even the scarlet adorning the broken walls seemed dull, its vibrance tapering off, appearing wan and weak. Only my lonely figure stood stark against that drab portrait, etched into that endless grey with bold, powerful, strokes.

A breeze. Rising in strength, it twisted and turned its way through the ruins, bringing with it the delicate scent of wildflowers and the freshness of the nearby woods. The smell of peace, of gentle spring.

But yet it could not completely overlay the strong, pungent scent of the crimson stains which painted these walls. The smell of pain, of death.

Raising my head, I sampled the air as any hunting hound would, my tongue lolling out a little. The taste of death hung heavily within these walls, and a sickening aftertaste of copper settled into my mouth, triggering an instinctive wave of nausea. But I crushed that impulse, and forced the air out of my nose and mouth, focusing instead on breathing shallowly, lest the scent of death should once more invade my senses.

I laid a hand on the unyielding stone upon which I knelt. It was cold to the touch, sending tiny chills up the length of my arm. The once smooth flagstone, worn by the countless feet tramping upon it, was now crusted with a thin flaky layer that came off in chunks to adorn my hand. Pretty pink flakes, that gave no indication of what they used to be. It felt like sandpaper, as I ground my hand into a tight fist, watching the flakes crumble and scatter as powder onto the ground.

Rising, I stood once more on my own two feet. From afar, I may seem like a lost shade, one of many that haunted this isolated ruin. But all unconcerned I stood erect in the midst of that crumbling structure, lost in thought.

Again with that whisper. A whisper that seemed almost like a sigh, mourning a loss. Too many would shrug it off as the murmurs of the wind, that it was nothing. But to me it signified a constant memorial to an ancient grievance, a testimonial to the lives lost. The memories of a glorious post, torn by cruel conflict.

But perhaps I was deluding myself. The whispers of the wind were but an illusion, echoing through the many crevices scattered amongst the worn walls. Yet, though the ruins have been worn by the trials of time, why is it that death still lurked within these walls, refusing to relinquish its hold upon this dead place?

There can be no answer. There is no answer, at least none I will give. Maybe time will reveal all, as it has always does. Or maybe, I will be forever wandering, lost, trapped in this memory untouched by the winds of time...

Bitter Hatred

Hatred.

An emotion so pure at its best,

So brutal at its worst.

I feel it,

Twisting at my soul,

Corrupting all it touches.

Sometimes it hurts,

Sometimes it soothes,

And sometimes…

You don’t feel anything no more.

Sometimes it sears at your very being,

Tendrils of agony winding its way round your very essence,

Fingers of flame wrapped in a deadly embrace.

Sometimes it chills me,

Like a silent stream weaving through my thoughts,

Turning to frost all that it touches,

Into the sleet that encases my bleeding heart.

Flame or Frost,

Both call to me,

Clamoring to be heard,

The bitter cries of my inner demons.

I embrace both,

Delighting in the familiarity,

Suffering in the throes of agony,

A conflicting sea of no return.

It is all I have,

All that I want,

All I need,

The cries of the damned,

Are now my only solace.

Now and forever,

In the abyss,

I will languish there in willing bondage,

To suffer the pain,

In willing remembrance of a fading memory.

Am I foolish?

Perhaps.

To wallow in the sea of bitterness,

To be consumed by the flames of hatred,

That is the path I have chosen…

Broken Soul

I am as nothing,

A poor lost soul, one of millions,

Trapped in a broken world.

I stand before the looking glass,

Facing the stranger I once knew.

Reached forth, a featherlike touch to a chill plane.

Watching, wondering,

Searching for the lost spark of life.

As I gazed upon the helpless wretch before me,

A fluttering memory stirred, ever so slightly,

Of one once brimming with the passion for life,

A creature pure and untainted.

Yet,

Now there is nothing,

Nothing but an empty husk,

Robbed of its essence, its soul.

A bitter smile twists those thin lips,

Harsh and unforgiving.

Deep down my heart bleeds,

Mourning the death of a child,

Weeping for innocence lost.

Too late, nothing to be done.

I sink to the ground,

Watching the garnet pools grow and spread,

Winding its way round glimmering shards,

All that is left of a broken soul.

Final Statement of a Shattered Soul

Bleed bleed, in the shadows I weep.

Curse me, hate me, wound me deep.

How I wish to fall asleep!

Break me, crush me, ruin my mind.

Listen to the whispers of a shattered mind.

Snarling, snapping, these demons of mine.

Push me, shun me, let me lie.

Broken and battered, living a lie.

Alone in the darkness, let me die.

Dig dig, dig my grave.

Under the sea, under the waves.

I have lost, all my faith.

Whip me, drive me, batter me down.

Little else will bring me down.

Come one come all, watch me drown.

Light and Darkness all in one,

An endless void, second to none.

Lost and alone, nothing to be done...

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