What's left?

Left are the sediments
the remains of what we had
carcasses of what we once bore

Devoured in the hunger of desires
forgotten in the forests of blames
withered by the accused shames

Left are the words we would say
and that day
the violins will cry
but the tears will dry

Strangers we'll pretend
move on as they say
or shall I say move away?

Left are these lies
the ties on a razor edge
craving to burn,break
sooner they might take

Would we be free in life now
or bound by it??

Confessions of a 'loner'

When there's no voice
only silence that would suffice
the solitude craved by my soul
dipping into the moments alone
in an empty room
with no windows and a closed door

I write an epiphany of stagnancy
singing the choirs of this oblivion
I strike the strings of my reverie

Musing further more
fusing with the stagnant time
I sink into this invisibility
Escape into a dimension
which is my own
unruled, unthreatened and unprone
to the ghosts I carry with me

I see myself on this paper
I hear myself in this sound
dancing with the comforted melody
calming the demons with in me

It's about the moments I breathe
about the moments I forgive
let go of the grudges I harbor
It's about the moments I live...

Apocalypse

The sun that we were waiting for
is now burning us down
the wind drenched in our ashes
dances with the rain of his wrath

Haunted with the miseries of our yesterday
we lie broken on the ground
trying to breathe in that hope
but all we find is this pain, this disdain
red rainbows of blood spattered around
poisoned with the agony of its shame
cracking under the weight of our fears
murdered dreams full of violet tears

With our own hands, we are building our apocalyptic tomorrow
disappearing in that endless shadow of our sorrows...