Made up his mind, he stood on the stool.
In silence and fear in the deepest of night.
For the demons of darkness
had driven him there.

There on his arm lies a mark that he made.
Next to the mark is a ticker that’s dead.
The time, like the ticker, turned tired and froze,
all while he stood by a knot that is hanging and down.

Looked at the knot that’s so steady and strong,
he thought of the things that have torn down his peace.
Words that have impaled the calmness of mind.
Looks that have peeled off the skin of his guard.

The masks people worn that of grins and of lies.
that did hide their cheeks and shaded both eyes.
The disdains and scorns of the loved ones and folks,
that worn out his heart that’s so tender and soft.

He looked at the cold and dark corner of room.
It looked back and told him “I’m coming for you’’.
As the corner got closer and tried taking in,
his soul started burning and so did his skin.

But then came a voice that’s so soothing and known.
When people hate on you, you’ve something they don’t.
Be full of beauty, but people bow fake.
For, they are so foolish and blinded to see.

They peek through the blinds that are tightly drawn.
It’s you who’s not fake that’s letting them known,
of all that’s so real and so good in this globe.
So, enslaved and entombed, they hide far away.

As these words started piling and filling his mind,
he struck by a ray of the rising sun.
Shocked by the glow of the breaking dawn,
stunned by the brilliance of yet another day,
he stopped all the thoughts and yelled like a knight.

‘’ Oh, **** it!! I’ll fight them one more night.’’

In end I'm surprised
An old habit slowly dies
And beginnings rise

Saw the moon the yesterday night
Laying on your thighs till I see your flaws right
Lingering my hair with your nails on point
The fragrance of your skin touches
Enlightening me till the sunrise

The eagles will pick on us, my child
while we nurture our soil,
they will confine us to the unwanted,
but you must rise, my child.
They will spill our blood and feast,
while we weep under the fog of the ceased.
Keep your head high my child,
before their curse falls upon you,
Our skies remain blurred,
but never stop clearing them my child
for the boiling spilled blood rages among us
for their cries were unvoiced.
Let the soil worms rise again to the surface,
and make their soils fertile again.