The Last Written Poem

By: Mark Ivan L. Sarin

It’s midnight, still thinking about you,
Can’t sleep, our memories killing me piece by piece,
The continous shading of blue breaks my peace,
Nothing to say, nothing to complain,
A profane but humane,
Slightly plain but purely insane,
Scars are permanent but the pain is not,
Yet scar reminds us of pain,
We cannot feel anymore once it gone,
But it’ll change us too, forever,
Sometimes, I face the mirror,
I’m asking the person I’m facing with,
Telling if the problem is in myself,
Or if i’m the problem at all,
Or it is just a drama during nightfall?
As I feel no one truly cares,
I’d like to let the chair and rope to decide,
To express the emotions inside,
Stressed. Rejected and Neglected,
Anxious. Nervous, isn’t that obvious?
I’m like a can filled with seals,
A human being afraid to tell what he actually feel,
Shy to enter the circle of happiness ,
But unwillingly captivating by sadness,
Oh, argh, i’m blank again!
I don’t know how,
I don’t know when,
And I don’t know where,
If this is the fate of mine?
Would you just take me anytime?
As we’re all facing death,
Can I just face it earlier?
As to live is to death,
Good God, please take my breathe.

Categories: Poetry

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