“In my wanderings and amble musings, along the wind, my feet would stray. Picking words, and inking some, following the fragrance of a lyrical fray…”

“Please. Stop this shit. You can’t write anymore, face it.”

“I touched my mind to feel for thoughts…”

“But it’s all haywire and messed up there, right? So you better give up you stupid girl go and study you can’t write accept the fact!”

“I searched the skies for sonnets, I looked for ballads in hollow trees, I called to caves for stories to say, and asked the winds for words to lease.”

“Oh come off it. Poetry isn’t gonna help anymore. Let go of it, you hopeless pathetic piece of senselessness. Stop living in your fantasy world. Reality, weakling! Face it! You are weak. You can’t hide in rhyming words and verses anymore. Give it up. AND STOP CRYING, FOR GOD’S SAKE!”

“The clouds of pain burst forth, unable to contain the flurry of the storm within, and my eyes rain the blood of my soul…”

“Stop excusing yourself. You don’t have any sort of pain. You are just so weak that you can’t face these minute problems and your own screwed brain. Stop being so miserable.”

“I write to give voice to my muted heart and let my gagged soul speak for itself…”

“Oh? Heart and soul and shit! Goddamn poetry, idiotic thoughts, the voices, the static, the memories, the fears… CAN’T YOU FREAKING SHUT THIS CRAP? Block it. Kill it. Live like you are expected to. Do what you are told. Say what they like. Don’t waste your time over this nonsense. What’s the point in writing, anyway? How the hell is it going to help you solve your problems?

I don’t care, just bottle it up. It’s easy. You have been always been doing it. You don’t need people to help you unless you are a feeble coward- which you seem to be! AND STOP CRYING, ALREADY! YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING LUMP OF WORTHLESS SHIT. Grow up, crybaby. Stop sobbing. No one cares, okay? I’m telling you…”

“No, not that. Put that back!”

“I looked deep in me and asked my heart, why do you ache yet beat so hard? Why are you so faithful, when you saw only betray? Don’t hide for I know, those scars shall always stay. You know it better, that wounds that deep won’t heal, and what’s worse is that, the pain doesn’t cease to feel. Heart, a lifeless soul you serve, yet you flood this false life in me. Don’t work so hard,for the blood  you give, I cut and let be free…”

“No, please…”



“Silence fills those spaces, dont say, you’ll be empty again.”

“Why do you have to?”

“I relieves me to see some wounds can heal.  Silence fills those wounds.”

“No… stop, it hurts…”

“Stories I can’t tell, get etched upon my flesh, Tears I can’t cry, trickle out as blood, The anger The yearning The guilt, Screams through open wounds.  It leaves scars of madness, I cannot escape.  I’m doomed to live in silent pain… ….and it kills me even more silently.”

“It’s wrong, please…”

“Stitches leave scars too.”


“See? I stopped crying.”

4 thoughts on “Split

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