Behind Closed Doors

Behind closed doors I stand locked in myself and out of freedom

In my heart a restless desire to uncry the tears I shed like cheap blood

The blood shed in the fields of slaving honor

Only my silly thoughts stir excruciating boredom

In the hearts of the ones I mistakenly sought emancipation

Too much sharing is my ugliest of habits

I admit as I kneel … that is my guilt

Floating in the glooms of the sad ones

Unsheathing my sword in the face of wounds cut by the Qadar

They are not my wounds … they belong to the other

I fight and fight to realize it is my own Qadar

Waiting in the dark for another exorcism

Deafened by hisses of the immortals of the genies and the devils

Waiting on them to come

In flesh they appear out of none

I am confronted by an army of devils of them and mine

Is it enough to use my sword and my verses combined?

I am only human in the face of ancient burning fire

Would I need a bleeding wound to put out their hateful flaming desire?

I am torn between the book I hadn’t savored and the verses I randomly memorized

I loathe my ignorance and their victorious satire

As I sit here in my self-loathing attire

Conceding my soul … a surplus gain to what they originally acquired

Guess I am too generous with my blessings

The taste of my peaking self-controlessness … vehemently they are devouring

I am drowning in a rustful hole of my own faith

I aspired to be the warrior in their battles

Forsaken mine…Damn! I took the bate

I fell a helpless victim in my own battle to which no one came to save

A dear price only a failing intruder could be doomed to pay

I lie on my poetic chair mourning the fading glow beneath the weeping willows

Listening to the moans of torture mixed with the screams of flying ravens

In my solitude sculpting my lacking faith

On a deep rooted ground years have not yet completely swallowed

  

Fabulous violen piece by Jessica Yeh…

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