published: (updated: )
by Harshvardhan J. Pandit
Blurs; colors mixing and spreading all around me,
Swirls; birds without wings just trying to be free;
An identity lost in the silence of chaos,
Souls coming together in a seance.
This hunger that comes from within,
I feel it from every pore of my skin;
When the mind is lost and out of control,
The body fragile as crumbling charcoal;
This divine feeling of a leap and flying high,
The end of life as I wave off a good bye.
Alas, reality kicks in much too soon,
The harshness bursts my balloon;
Another escape is what I so desperately need,
Healing feels much better when I bleed.
I feel the noise drive me mad,
I feel the soul rot and go bad;
I’ve waited for eons now with time,
I can hear the ringing of the chime;
I need the substance that makes me feel divine,
It is my temple, It is my shrine.
Come, free me from this prison of pain,
Liberate me from my own brain;
The world is not worth one breath,
Come, help me unto my death.