Crack*
The mirror broke.
And such a thing, although inevitable,
Tainted my vision,
And stole my hope.
I lost my smile,
When, what I had was lost.
Irreparable,
Irreplaceable,
Overwhelmingly...
Untraceable.
­
Over time the pain faded
And was replaced anew,
Increasingly constant,
Blindening,
Suffocating.

Crack
Another's mirror broke
And the innocent pain, revived,
Gifted my mind,
With the cracked
Memory of my mirror.

On this path obstructed by red rose bushes
Lies the era of our golden dreams
Whose thorns pierce every limb of our body
But whose pulchritude emphasizes on its radiant gleam


And when those thorns disseminate pain
Our eyes are reassured by the blindening red
The kind of red that rejuvinates hope
And enlightens those who simply sit and mope

But for some it may breed new selfish desires
Desires that are capable of arousing compulsion
And desires that gradually exteriorize to lust's
But when such lust's lie with in reach
They simply abrade ,
Just like the iron rusts

Despite knowing the pain it entails
We transition on this path from threshold to terminus.
Combatting incessantly in this unremitting struggle
We allow the gust to bear us along.

After the rain's cold has faded,
Clouds still floating away,
I begin to witness
What blindening tumult
The rain had
Cast and strewn upon me...

Congealing on the surface of my
Glass petals; fresh and thick
Colourful drab paint
Coating the layers of my
Fragile inner self, and I
Could only leave it there
To protect me against weathering
Until I
Forgot it was there and I was drowning...
You can only hold your breath for so long

In the warmth of my bed,
In the cold of the rain filled clouds,
I sit in expectation,
Waiting for petals to replace my
Colourfully dripping glass
Again

Beyond life’s frenzy
Lies a mystery
Competitive queues
Hiding the most valuable clues
Keys if you will
That unlock you and I’s potential
One that reveals itself wholly
When we devote ourselves to our inner crazy
Being discouraged to access
Fear of insufficiency
Leaks from our bones when we open our eyes
To invisible paintings of ourselves
Blindening is the light of adaptation
Shutting the door that holds our reason
The very inspiration that relates to our mission
Only a few sprints left
Until we complete the marathon of finding ourselves