Naked ceiling and rumbling intestines,
Shamefully homeless and kissed by hunger;
Forced to be one of poverty’s concubines,
Like being cursed with slaps from a thunder.
Empty hearts with hopeful thoughts,
Weirdly happy and dying slowly;
Ship of cold as it gently fraught,
Crashing into the sea below so lowly.
Nature’s impeccable entertainment,
And life’s ever beautiful nightmare;
The rich’s mockful amusement,
And earth’s miserable secret affair.
Raining face and broken skin,
Harshly sun-kissed without permission;
Red weary eyes as if bathed with gin,
Helpless but bitter without admission.
Echoing pockets with holes at the end,
Empty bowls and frowning passersby;
Inheriting gastric ulcer for a friend,
And finding solace deep in Satan’s pie.
Torn clothes as if burnt by the sun,
Worn confusion as if placed since birth;
A search for an escape maybe via a gun,
Staring at the clouds to find life’s worth.
Depreciating health and weak posture,
“All will be well”, So hopeful and patient;
Boiling temperature and bloody picture,
“I will be fine”, but death is impatient.
Paused breath, very frozen body,
Lonely in death, lonely wherever;
Abandoned by life like a nobody,
Shallowly buried and silent forever!
I am Martha Kings, a 21-year-old graduate of English & Literature from Ambrose Ali University. I have been writing since the early age of 8. I suffer from depression and literature has been my lighthouse for as long as I can remember. Instead of tears, I let words flow and this technique has improved and built me into the woman I am today. My blog is at www.litblogger.com
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