Where Else My Poetry Falls

Unlike the majestic way of disguising things, I can reveal all my secrets through a song. same as the humming of a  bird to its mate, or piping of a bee to a flower yet to be bloomed. if I could have the lyre of that great healer, the god of music and light, let him shine upon me, through all my plague and darkness, so I can create a new melodious way to suffer alone. if you hear me when I sing that dirge, I may be upon the top of my lungs, mixing all the griefs with all the air I can fill in. I will try to be aloud, I want them to hear this. this song, about the death of an innocent dreamer, who dreamed beyond their imagination, to hide the truths from his other self, like the wind which's stuck between Mountains. he died for nothing but for pain.

Inked by a sea, which was formed before my birth, maybe it's the dark blood of an unknown bird. Scars never felt real, like the scars I held by myself, but it has the power to enhance what's real and unreal. It will appear, when I call upon for the wisdom and darkness, in every scars like the stars of a deep dark night. Soon I will realize, what are the reasons for living and for dying, and also the reasons for loving and being loved. They cannot control, the weather, the storms, and the rain, So my emotions and thoughts. If they do, what should I do to myself, to avoid all the consequences I'm guilty of. It is too easy, to cut the wrist and unleash the red river, like the flow of unhappiness to the sea of misery. But in other hand, I hold the cup which never ever fills, and I'm searching honey drops in decayed flowers. I might be a sinner, in my dreams I slayed a thousand thoughts, about the things which they don't want to feel. ...

dilemmas in the delusional Lilies, a hesitation, whether or not, do they've to fall after the honey drops dry or before this night fall,  or before this winter's cry. warm touch by the summer wind, an impossible dream to catch, before it perish, all these decayed dreams, in the sorrow of forgetful snow. they'll create an empathy to carve love, out of each human heart with thier everlasting toxic fragrance, before they feel the last coldness of night. after the fall of the broken Lilies, where you find your heart?

when the time comes, when I die, when my soul find a space in the Raven's talons. you can take all these pieces with you, and tie it together, enrich it with some cherry blossoms, and with some feathers of your broken dreams. when they fail to remember my existence, when they start to forget about this world of sorrow and harsh. you should wear this crown of madness, because pain is essential for a peaceful world.

lustrous, a summer midnight, he was waiting for the clouds to sleep, and the lunar came by, and he knows his shines, the one who sells the stars for a price, and the price is what you love the most. hesitation, his eyes become gloomy, darkness or the sadness which slayed his joy, price should be named or the stars will fade, what would he give, what's he loves the most? speechless, a tiny thing in his pocket, a star from the past, which's belongs to his mother, what was the price, how did she earned, now she is no more, so he wants the truth.

I have found the wisdom, when I was in my mother's womb. when clouds found its way back to home, I found mine, the way to this oblivion life. I remember that day, I cried aloud, like a thunder, which echoed throughout the mountains, till when I saw them, they had pretty smiles They are the people, gave me advices, to live this fucking world, with worries, they made to suffer, and a broken mask of a smile to hide them. they have found the rules, and they have found the laws, how could I live with the wrong choices I made, they will hang me or they will make me to death why am I living for? the question remains till when I get back my wisdom, if it is after my death, or after the silver hairs dance, Whenever it is I shall give no mercy on them.

I'm dead.  You can hide me  wherever you like But you must be very careful  not to hide in your heart's burial grounds.  Because I am not worthy  of being laid in the graves  of those who dug the grave.