Thursday, July 11, 2013

Deathly Living

I know what it feels to be dead,
I know what it feels to be sad,
Feels like you should never be born,
When for you everyone has left.

No more I like the light,
How ghostly be the sight,
No soft feelings, no sensual senses,
Have drained that vessel of pride.

Crawling around like a leech,
Living on the acidic bleach,
Macerating blanched veins and limbs,
Consuming the seething frizz.

Not a word that I utter,
In endeavor to pronounce better,
Finally lost is my voice,
Closed with ineffable shutter.

I don’t see any morning,
Or hope of night’s turning,
It seems to be the end,
Where death is the most cunning.


  1. Inspiring poem from a state of desperate! I liked the ending :)

    I hope anything bothers you will keep away.

  2. Deep and dark.
    It's hard to go through this phase.

  3. Replies
    1. Heartily thank u for finding some appreciation...I can't anything but bitterness in it!:(

  4. Death is sure cunning. :)
    Lovely post!

    1. You are right!! En it's torturous until the final silence percolates and steadies everything..!

      Welcome to my blog! Thank u for visting..:)

  5. Quite haunting. I am always surprised when young people come with with such writing.

    1. ha ha ha..I don't know why I am laughing after reading your seems you have a doubt on my age..!

    2. Well I wouldn't put you to be at 35, reflecting back on life.

  6. Ooh, it eerie!! I felt strange while reading this...:)


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