Would the sun brighten with added exuberance or dwindle its fuel to burn rapidly in the absence of night?
Or does it's energy generate from feeding off darkness to replenish its glorious glow?
lts said war is a fundamental catastrophe to procure peace.
Does societal harmony require a blood sacrificial ceremony to establish unity among us?
Sending soldiers to a death sentence just to hold slippery tails of undomesticed peace.

losing her did it make me let go and treasure life?
Or hold on to the memory with vengeful temper?
Am feeding off darkness and my temper is starving.

I am a flower born on infertile grounds with deep probing roots thriving to feed its stem
Caught between survival and blooming yet withering away regardless.

What can I do to escape the bolted door in the basement of my mind that keeps opening?
Drilling holes into my heart at night to get to my soul.
Am I holding a red cloth waving it in the air?
Attracting fuming bulls like an amateur matador on crutches deprived of triumph;
Throwing me back in the dustins of a stinking past yet nutritive.

unhealing wounds gushing out depression without remorse.
l seek aslym in excessive drinking just to have a peaceful slumber,
cutting myself physically just for temporary medication to my dying mind.

Time alas is not a commodity we can return.
lost in the sea drowning my soul clinging to a pole hoping for a shore.
Going deep with the knife at my wrist for permanent relief.
My sanity evicted,vision blurred sitting with fabricated boxes of lost hope.
life turning into a skyscraper,
fatigue gripping me as l continuously ascend every step.

l wonder if God cries?
lf he was a mortal how many would be at his funeral?
How can l fly when am stuck in this cage of rage?
Pain has thrown me in jail no recitals of rights just a flash of the badge.
Mental medicating trying to resurrect my untimely demise.
lost at sea struggling to stay on the surface just to have purpose until l am gray to tell these horrid tales.
Clinging at the cross my hope lost no potential for a victory toast.

l am a time traveler with corrupted abilities throwing me back in the dustins of a stinking past repeatedly.
Patiently letting the cycle keep spinning until I understand it even though it's killing me.
l am not blind to the signs.
High from excessive smoking contemplating my demise from these heights.
My mind engrossed in wild imaginations of my head splashed on a rock my thoughts flung in the dirt beyond recuperation.
Therapeutic sessions I punctually commit to just to regain ephemeral peace.

l don't care about your righteous self-deceiving social opinionated approval that merely shelve me labeled "insane".
lts a blessing to be alive but it's death in this arena I was neglected to hold back single-handedly an army.
Privileged to have loved and cared but lost it all and you think its therapeutic to say "They are in a better place?"
Do you think out of sight out of mind is the healing I need to move forward when my feelings are still feeling oblivious to the physical absence of their birth?
How can you convince my sightless emotions to comprehend and detach from the invisible embrical cord when only by feeling it birth its own sight?
How can I tell my argumentative mind hurting from succumbing to a willy-nilly reminiscence picturing stored memories with teary eyes to understand ?
Reciprocating kindness out of pity to comfort what it thinks is an autistic heart while punished with sleepless nights of torturous questions hard to let go.

Embattled with indecision of fellowship between my heart and mind..
Past and present their object of devotional attraction provides supplementary sanctuary close to home.
lost in thoughts l am now facing a temptation in the form of a dangling knotted rope inviting me home.

l am exhausted from being genuine to people who reciprocate with fabricated zeal.
Shaking their heads with contempt at my rapid deterioration tantamount to a mansion reduced to a ramshackled building as they swiftly pass on.
Ashamed and judgemental of the broken exterior and rusty wide open gates that once refuged their burdens with a warm welcome.

l am tired of sitting in dispassionate therapies incomprehensive to my traumatic struggles l vent out to someone unfit to walk a mile in my shoes.
Educated minds regarding emotions as a mathematical complex that can be solved with a pen.
l wear my uniform and fight in these bloody trenches without a promised tomorrow.
Panel beating the wrecks of my heart damaged from a collision with a giant fate fighting for survival on a stretcher bed.


#depressionisreal
#lifestruggle
#deathisbliss
#legendaryrupee





© luisRupende