This Shall End.

This shall end,
just like everything else.
The pieces will crumble,
the pain will fly,
all tears will die,
or so I like to pretend,
that like everything, this too will end.

The butterflies will fly again,
never will flowers feel estranged,
that I will lose track of all my pains,
that one day the traces of tears will vanish,
this thick cloud of doubt would diminish,
I like to believe, I want to pretend,
that like everything, this too will end.

Swimming in deep, murky pools of regret,
my heart, so broken, so tattered, so hurt,
walking amongst the darkest shadows,
the rain gently pelting on my windows,
the settling of dust on my inner core,
the anguish that keeps on getting more,
I want to imagine, I want to pretend,
that like everything, this too will end.

They look at me as I lie there in flowerbeds,
so many pairs of eyes, so many turning heads,
A wagging finger, a clicking tongue,
considered forbidden are the tunes I sung,
a funeral deadlier than the person who lay,
alive in flesh and soul, made of clay,
I want to tell myself, I want to pretend,
that like everything, this life too will end.

I Want to Die.

I want to die in front of you,
in such a way, you have no clue,
I want my blood to adorn your face,
to strip you off strength and solace,
before my eyes finally close,
and I set myself to eternally doze,
I want to see your face turn gray,
before death finally comes my way.
No matter how much you try to cremate,
following my remains will be in your fate,
in the darkest nights and brightest days,
you still won't find me, not even a trace.
Till the day you live, from the day I die,
I would never want to see you cry,
for tears are pure and they purge the soul,
I want to see you collect rust, I know I'm cruel.
Little by little the dust will settle,
I'll become soil within my coffin's metal,
but still deep within my so dead heart,
you will remain like a piercing dart.
Even my death won't pull us apart,
for every pain you gave is a vital part,
of now my life now even after death,
since you're still you, I'm still me,
it's just that I am now devoid of breath.

The Art of Breaking Apart.

I have mastered the art,
of breaking apart,
each bit of mine,
another drop in the ocean,
a tattered soul to carry,
is such a massive burden,
so i just shed if off today,
tried to find some way,
to turn lop-sided smiles,
into beautiful frowns,
to let the feelings drown,
into cruel marshes of time,
as each fragment sunk deep,
it was so hard for me to keep,
myself from breaking further,
it was a pain like no other,
I silently witnessed each bit,
adorning the endless, timeless pit.