God visits your heart to weep
Because it is a cinnamon garden where a temple lamp can't reach with its sighing light.
Because a bird sleeps inside the bone dome of your skull, 
chirping in its dream, 
about lingering around 
the pool of golden sunlight.
Because you have familiarised the rhythm of pain, that now violence is your new gentleness. 
Because yearning for nothingness sits in your fingernails, like a metaphor on a storyteller's throat.
Because you are an asymmetrical cemetery built on marble floor of your mother's forgotten kisses, clenching to dead bodies of warrior butterflies who were lucky to fly for five days. 
Because you are a sick lullaby, that is a hostage of webbed memory .
Because you are an arrow, trying to hide in the corners of a circle so that you can't kill yourself.
Because you are a burning ship, which lost its anchor and erasing thr smoke signals while drowning.
Because in all your glory, you are sabotaging, 
just like a god.
So,
I shall carry you in my grief ,
Like a dream chaser
A fire walker,
A soul plucker

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