Psychopathic loner;

Destiny’s goner;

Thought’s bipolar;

I seek blemishes in the Sane

And beauty in Death. 



Wounded mind;

Dead body;

Lifeless eyes;

I tend to function 

Like other cracked Shrines. 



These holes 

In my soul 

Can’t contain the dirty filth 

Anymore. 

Guess the patches you sewed, 

And mended the broke, 

Couldn’t stand the guilt

Anymore. 



These ribs

Bound the broken secrets 

Of my rotten, caged organ. 

Yet the pieces straggle, 

And cause strangers to unravel 

Their bittersweet bosom.



My days end in a casket

And my stories, in a grave. 

For my reins were attributed 

In the hands of wretched;

A wild horse got tamed. 



You see, I was fostered with love. 

Was. 

Until my veins were injected

With human blood;

My eyes were burnt 

With the cruel fire of the Earth

And got impelled to fantasize 

The beauties of the Underworld. 



I’d rather watch my beloved moon, 

And lament its aloofness, 

Than deal with this

Pathetic humanity’s atrociousness. 

My bones fuel the flames of my soul

But Love, please watch me burn from afar. 

For, even if I dream of paradise, 

I gaze at walls, not stars. 



                               – JAISMINE K. 

….an overwhelming plea…. why not to fall for me. 

Advertisements