Monday, September 12, 2011

Sewn

There was a wound in my heart
Sewed up so it won't fall apart
Now the scar stares at me
But it doesn't mean much, you see

I will nail the scab till it hurts
Tear the skin, till blood spurts
Pick the pieces from my nails
Because pain never fails

There is only so much pain
That you can officially take
After that its peaceful state
Either you wake or break

So, have I woken or I've broken
I do not know till now
There is only a path to walk
Which will answer me somehow

---

Ah ha, good old angst and bloody imagery.  


5 comments:

  1. really liked this one.. and yes.. your friends are right.. you do write beautiful poetry.. :)

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  2. Wow. Just wow! Can totally relate to this one. The words are beautifully sewn together.

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  3. i am curious.. is this mere wordplay, or do these poems put forth what you feel?

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  4. @Aria

    Thanks you. Your poems also evoke some brilliant images! :)

    @Harsh thanks man!

    @Gobsmacked I can't write unless I feel it first. Yes, these are feelings, but without wordplay, it's just a confused mess. Say, wordplay is the sizzle on the sausage ;)

    Cheers!

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