Shedding no tears of grief,
Nor of reprieve,
Sitting there on the fringes of my existence,
Sipping your idealistic lies.
Travelling far and wide,
I breathe, I flow
With no qualms by my side.
Storing the floating images,
Of muddy, scarred, unreachable faces.
Making a path,
Not of wrath or destruction.
Arriving to known,
Unwelcomed like an inconvenience in my home.
Fitting me into moulds,
You tame me,
Imprisoned by these grey walls,
My identity is best unknown.
In these shackles of imposed towers,
Turning into snapshots of your whims,
Watched by the guards of your lair.
The blues of my beauty,
Shroud the reality,
Bleak and withered,
Willing to leave all that is mine.
I change, I burn.
Passing into a new phase,
Leaving the evidence behind
The corpses of your reminiscence
Showcasing your bellied mistakes
Hidden under what is rightfully mine.
With the turn of the sun,
I will be back ,
Holding no treason,
It isn’t death , I know ,
That your cries would fill me up , when I really go.