A torn diary of a dead man

I refuse to hear the sounds of misery so I place my fingers in my ears … My eyes, however, how can I close them when they are the lucid witnesses of these crimes? They saw the unfair wrists pulling down the mistreated necks and the empty mouths are talking instead of speaking up.

Ropes are hanging down from our dead trees and dead men are sat on fire by the dancing red heads for their hands have only stolen their rights. You see, the scale is off balance and no one wants to give the law a call.

When the sinners are trying to make juice out of the wine our sky refuses to give us life. Now, is it fair when the pearls sleep in peace in their shells and our army of orphans are making sand castles? Am I misguided for holding my book of poetry in hope instead of the book of religion?

Don’t you bother … My ears are closed. You can only answer me when your mouth is empty but you can taste the salt in that orphan’s tears, your neck is being dragged in humiliation but you can look up to the sky that looks down on you, when you see humans burning but have no water to save them and when you can see through eyes like mine.

I want to feel …

How did I turn out to be like that? Like this … I don’t know me anymore, I’m looking at the mirror and I see my demon staring back at me.

I lost my feelings, so I began to borrow some from others. I became addicted, I even started to appreciate fear experiences. I have literally felt everything and there is nothing much left to steal.

I tried to escape but now I have to live with it. I ripped people’s feelings out and now they have nothing inside, just like me. They became monsters too but I haven’t left them with much to feed on. Now what? I need to feel human again, even if that means that I have to do inhuman things.

I didn’t choose to be me but I can stop being me, would you let me see life through your eyes? To feel what you felt … Anger, fear, sorrow, love and all? Leave me but don’t leave me in hunger! If you were me, what would you choose? Starvation or salivation?

Black and white picture

I still have a black and white picture … It is clearer this way, I get to see his true face and kiss those wrinkles; caused by his overdosed smiles. His true face … I can see it in his soul through those charming eyes.
He looked at me, and with one look he elicited my soul out so forcibly as if he called it forth and it obeyed … I felt like a lab rat, he was testing his control on me.

The best reason to hate him is that he made me smile once. His smile, on the other hand, is innocent and the most deceiving.
I remember the first time we had a connection … Our souls bonded and we had access to each other’s thoughts. We come from different tribes he and I, I come from the “Qatala”; the most deadliest and cruelest creatures. He is what you call a common, but he is unique.

We can never be together, we are different like water and fire. He is the symbol of Love and I am the symbol of Hate and chaos will fall on us like rain if the two mix. He has special powers of forcing his love into the coldest and he kills with kindness which I think is pathetic. His purity teases me, I hate the way he treats me, it makes me weak.
I see him sometimes, I avoid looking in those eyes, they have their way to make me feel like a human again and I resent it.

I am sure that he saw the darkness in my eyes and now sees me as one of his charity works … That light in your light soul has no cure for my black spirit. I see him sometimes doing the “Gaith” dance; it brings fortune to the poor ones, I see him juggling planets like they’re nothing too. I see him painting souls with feelings and it was disgusting, I see him riding the “Mumit” for fun; Mumit is a beast that can tear you in parts with one move. I also see him bringing life with a snap of a finger; bringing memories into thin air for people to see, and when I see him I see myself in chains too.

Sometimes I see him as an amusement; a clown. Sometimes I feel that he has my heart in his bare hands and it bleeds when he closes his fist; a master. I am the child of the desert and the sea and I shall return into dust when the sun rises from the west. My end, however, feels nearer when I see the threat in the heart of that child like man. I hope he never becomes my enemy, for he has great power on me. I hope he never becomes my lover, for he is such a distraction. I hope he stays nothing, that worthless half human.

Confusion

He was standing there waiting for her, searching for her face in those blurred faces. He caught her at last and she from under her shades has caught his eyes whose patience was wearing thin and that overwhelmed her as she smiled out of true happiness. That smile of hers made his lips wave back with hope but her smile soon had faded into deep sadness due to the clarity of the situation; he can’t be hers and that made her furious. His smile faded too like sunset when her two seconds smile was gone.

His eyes followed the confusing movements of her lips and that left him thinking with mixed emotions. “What is it he wants? … Looking at me with those puppy eyes … The fool thinks I would fall for such an innocent look.” He evoked her emotions with his playfulness and that has offended her most. She refuses to submit to any kind of power and him trying to do so without even trying made her hate him most. “That smile has slipped my face”.

For reasons she does not know and can not understand, she envied him. “The way he looked through me made me feel naked and exposed as if he can see my soul through transparent glass and that scares me most.” “Does he look at all women that way? Of coarse he does, he lied to me without saying a word!” She forces on a face of apathy but sadness breaks through like the truth and light would find their way through the cracks. “Every time I see him I stand straight pulling myself together … It’s stupid and pathetic.” She wasn’t all together! She’s a paradox in a human form.

“We just can’t be together so let me be …” She is grey and he is spring, she is darkness and he is light, he is hope and she is despair, he is the dream and she is a nightmare, he is whole and she is incomplete, he is strong and she is broken, he is very alive and she is dead, he is loved and she is a stranger. “It just doesn’t make sense.”

What can she do but to avoid looking into his deep eyes for they only made her feel pain, for they are one of her new fears and impossible desires. The quiet ones … Who are they but over thinkers? They would make great writers too, since they’re bad talkers. Here’s a little secret; they are not quiet at all their emotions are screaming inside shaking them and choking their throats as they ignore by trying to look calm and together.