The mere and bleak existence worried him
feeling half the life has gone away.
Crooked worn out doors closing on him
by itself didn’t send out a ripple of sound anymore.
The hinges were greased and
the disturbance thoughtfully ceased.
Four concrete walls crushed him to a space
of nothingness that scared him to death.
He wished he ran out of his useless breath.
Tools on his desk were unexploited and rusty
and all that mattered didn’t make sense to him anymore.
He slept all day and kept up all night
wishing for a chance of arid nightmares.
Selling away his unstable soul for free
his heart longed to fade out and eternally flee.
The endless bills and disarray of days in months
promised the devil his spirit which he himself found hard to find.
Devil breathed and waited right beneath his bed, brutally kind.
Clothes in his wardrobe smelled like thousand places
yet they belonged nowhere but solely to the closet.
Socks and shoes in the box were worn out with an urge to elope
as the fire in him died and didn’t take them anywhere fine.
His significant love for the moonlight and rainbows fell,
the deceptive rarity of magic revealed the ugly truth as well.
A better day was always from the bygone days of past.
His assumption of dying candles and temporary light
were just one of the million others things basking in the rage of his fight.
The flower vase neither carried the weight of petals
nor did it feel in place like it used to be.
Mirror and the altar of perfume bottles
were seldom used anymore, he didn’t care.
Letting his present to a slow and untimely end
he regretted each second and wanted to apprehend
the promises and the dreams he had for himself.
Reality stuck him and massacred the peace in the air
and he blamed the blameless world for being unfair.