If you want it to be
Life can be both a blessing
and a lesson
It is impossible to read a book
whose pages have never been opened.
some of mine has got sands between the pages
and others have shaggy dogged ears
because I scribbled words I couldn’t speak
and watered-down thoughts I couldn’t share
Crucifying oneself is the prince of bio-weapon
One sting, eternally addicting to the soul
Seemingly infectious it is too
that’s why I easily scare on my walk alone.
The song of my dreams is none but a cacophony,
a mixture of voices that drowns purpose
other times I’m enchanted by a siren’s song.
I scribbled dried blood on my sleeves
yet you’ll need a kaleidoscope of sorts to view my art
It is enough the way it is
because I was made for Earth’s treasure chest