A PRAYER

 I am thousand deaths and

hundred heart breaks old.

My mangled wings dead

I stand frozen on

the deserts of my past.

I carry cursed words 

in my palms, and

two syllables of dreams 

within me.

I wear clothes sewed 

out of grief, which

cover my grey wounds.

My mouth has alphabets

arranged into unanswered 

question marks and

my brain itches in the memory of old smiles.

You tried to kill me,

exactly four times,

four seasons

I survived.

Every night I sing

myself to sleep

my demons crawling on the old paper walls,

and ghosts under my bed.

I move around the 

wretched circle of life,

wondering will I ever

stop carrying you

in my fingertips. 

Oh lord

teach me to forgive

to forget and 

to risk myself 

once again.

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