Another scar marked, on the wounded heart,

Amidst this vanity, Falling apart is my soul,

I despise the bigotry, the treachery,

Yet I whimper inside the blanket of pain,

Deafening echoes of an unheard mourning, vanishes the lark’s singing,

For the wilderness is not somber today,

I long for your presence, like the roaring waves longs to crash with the rock on the shore,

Indelible memories flow from the nonchalant eyes,

For now grotesque, have become, my beautiful dreams,

This cold long night seems never ending, like the words never ended, between you and me,

Amidst a bevy of people I wander alone, like the last leaf in an ending autumn,

Of months, dates and places, have become shackles,

For into the oblivion, people can disappear, but not them,

The season’s change, from summer to winter to spring to autumn, constant is what I remain,

For the spring’s flowers have still not blossomed,

If only I could go far away, from this wagon of pain,

Wailing I beg for clemency, to relieve me from this chain,

For another scar has been marked on the wounded heart.

 

Wounded-heart

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