I conceal a battlefield inside And angst that slowly turns into anger Along with the simmering bubbles of tension That push one over the level of danger An incensed infuriation inwardly resides Below the peaceful, placid facade I hide The fury and incessant irritation I constantly feel inside Tranquil and quiet, outwardly serene I supposedly never see raging red People don’t ever get to witness The raging tempest in my head The innate irate temper That defines who I really am Gets perceived as subdued submission, Rationality and pacific calm The incandescent , seething frenzy Turns into vexed, exasperated indignation The fuming ranting and raving Changes into resentment on provocation There is a monster inside my head That changes the course of my normality Within the confines of the dungeon inside me Rarely reflecting externally the reality of my personality
An invisible barrier ; Invading my consciousness, Staring blankly at the whitewashed walls, 'Tick-tock', Yes, the clock goes
On the stony surface of gray rocks, Are glowing splinters of fresh dew, Fallen from the sky; Or what?, Nowhere.. There's a light after the haunting darkness of ephemeral trauma, But it tends to make us believe that there's no unleashing , In the dark -stabbing trap
Broken-shattered, Or constantly breaking, While healing with the cure of panacea, This is a battlefield of melancholic -sweet rain pouring, Amid the floating souls whom had given up
When the stars rest at night, Giving shines of hope to the hopeless, And when the fresh air coloured ,with smoke ashes of holy night , Take me to my ripples of thoughts, I'd take the pen of poetry , Dipping into my puddles of sundry ideas, And pour the feelings of the serene night, Carelessly over the white-oak papers, Making it another battlefield , Which I'm still holding onto...