The dark side pushed under, some day we'll have to make it right.
The mood is quiet and sombre, the topic self inflicted death,
I'm drowning in the sea of words, gasping for my breath.
A sea full of possibilities, some images, some truth,
Some words intended to pierce, others to heal and soothe.
Deliberately thrown from my unconscious, brimming to the top,
The theme will no longer be macabre, if the suicides stop.
I'm broken, shipwrecked, the Titanic has sunk,
They say if you are so sensitive, better be a monk.
The world of today is full, of suffering and despair,
I'm searching for my parts madly, so that I can fix and repair.
14 lines are enough, to pour your heart out,
21 poems not enough, to lead to suicide's rout.
No comments:
Post a Comment