Like a monster
Impersonating the angel of death
It crawls into this chest
The lethal pain,
With slaughtering emotions..
Each sugary memory
Settles back into this sore mind
Every hour
Like a thorn
Like a dagger
And I almost faint
But it wouldn’t give me the pleasure..
I reach out to my turquoise pills..
Forcing to sleep
A heart insanely ill..
The “Grim Reaper” is my shadow..
With his tempting blade invading my flesh..
Yet preserving me alive so that
My melancholy remains dim and fresh..
amal
17th July 2005
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