The Accidental Suicide
The skin has torn and the air presses the outcome inside, a failing attempt
As if to hide an obvious sin, and I
Harbour in me your priceless thoughts, and meekly hold them inside
With the sharpness of sickle, an equivalent of a threat
Whose wooden bars my palms hold, with strength that fear spawns
The fear not of dying but of losing a progeny of you..
The ravines never flinched my calves, i have wings, in my mind, i have wings
I will fly through the ravines; i will glide in this narrowness
Just as i glide past quick in your narrow thoughts, for once, then, i am close to your
Priceless thoughts...and i reach out
I grab them, a handful, a sickened synergy, but i have it and i will hold it inside
All along the ravines that run a long length, and stop, unceremoniously, i fall, unconsciously
The skin has torn, the air has blown, but i hold your thoughts, inside the broken skin
With the sharpness of sickle, the threat, the strength, the fear of losing you...
The pond has crystallized and I sit on the bank, gabbing
I gab about my authority over it, i gab about its ubiquity
I gab about owning it, i made it, it is my tears that your thoughts caused
And i ran to
The narrow ravines, i have wings, your populous narrow thoughts
It was an accidental suicide.