I am seething,
Flaming in this impossible heat,
Thinking what did I do to deserve this,
What loathsome act did I commit
To seal such a painful fate?
Or was it just a matter of choice
That plucked out known faces,
Impelled me towards cold hearts?
Walls have drawn closer,
Hearts have turned heavier,
Does gravity change
When you change places?
Food seems distant,
As luscious dreams starve
Now my body too is discontent.
I have become a weary shuteye,
When I used to be the awakened.
As I constantly boil,
My thoughts foil
All my plans I have for life,
I do nothing but swallow my pain
And wallow in a bucket full of sweat
With patient knowing eyes,
As if life never gets easier
But brutal with age.
Hope I don’t curse too much
Or my tongue might fall off,
I always have something to say
Even when I am being roasted.
Sometimes I wonder
If all of this is for me to write,
To get me to taste people,
Of how the dead have been living.
But that would be placing a pen
Between my fingers,
But you don’t understand!
It is impossible to hold a pen
With a burnt hand.