fractured and chipped at

 If I stab this giant of a hill, will it level to the ground and I balance
Falls from this high tend to leave me fractured and chipped at
Cold nights atop here are unbearable and me living through them is worrying
If I get my hands or a rope, I'm unsure if I'll swing down or climb higher
The peak of the climb getting sharper does not mean the end to me, just a swifter cut
Your unconcerned faces from down there aren't helping much

empty hands and bags of baggage

What made us into such wreckballs
watching our lives unfold into rhymes
we can't even utter
How do we wake up sane
and later scamper into our beds
like deranged hounds
Who lands crap balls onto our laps
and expects our knees to hold together
heap after heap
Why do we camp under the same blankets
that soak our tears every night
and repeat it every night
Where do we think we are going
with our blistered feet and broken spirits
and empty hands and bags of baggage?

Re-post #Life of opposites

Little by little, second after second, day after day
I feel the sap being sucked out of my being
Minutes after seconds a little bit of me melts away
Every now and then I get ripped
A part of me dies once in a while

Everytime I fall, the rise gets harder and more strenuous
As time drags by I lose myself a little bit more
From every fail I lose a bit more heart
After every turn on this everlasting road my blood cuts down
Every nightfall my body grows darker and scary

It’s been a long time coming and the end just began
I can clearly see the darkness at the end of this dim-lit road
The gradually developing downfall has quickened to a plummeting speedy drop
The cycle completes itself really quick these days
The loss and shed I readily await and go through silently

I’m saying that I drain faster nowadays
I wither more quickly and also blossom equally fast
I see clearly where there’s just blur and don’t complain much
I do not wish for change and when it comes I adapt real quick
I also grow weaker every nightfall and get strengthened every dawn

I get confused easily and confuse even more often
I rarely cry but laughter is just as scarce- maybe it’s because I don’t know when to do either
I want to reach out and be reached out to, but I still don’t want to leave my bursted bubble
I love the idea of going to sleep but strain to do so
I resent waking up and also strain to do so

It feels like mother said….

  “ I'll weave my shredded heart
    into a basket for your worries
    and bare my bony shoulder
         for you to cry on
    I'll take my skeletal hands
          and earth-filled fingers
    and stroke your face
          and wipe off your tears
 I'll slap my aching back to bend
   and pick you up when you fall
   My eyes won't know any tears
         but when yours do, mine will be wet with love I'll drain rivers of pain with my cloak
    and clear thorny bushes with my bare hands
I'll take lifes beatings with grace
        so it can be softer on you"

my trivial being

I'll pull out my hand
and wipe off hope
Off the face of my soul
Too firmly planted my feet
on the grave of my dreams
So to sit and chant
and sing to lure
death for its grace
Or its darkness that engulfs
And on the last embers of my life I'll lay
In the comforts of self pity
and the enthralling wretchedness
of my trivial being
torn from this barren desire
to be a conduit for happiness and peace
And off I'll go
to the one adventure foreign to man
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