I thought I’ll mute myself
And get away with all that was to be had;
Let it curdle, grow, spread veins,
Not realizing that it was not blood
But poison that flowed.
The threads didn’t hurt me
When I wound them around
Left a mark, maybe.
But that is fine.
It will dissipate, merge.
Remember my voice, though, when it chokes
For the threads left it strangled.
You won’t notice it
For I adorned it with songs;
Although the last words were razed,
Last tunes were frayed.
But you won’t notice it anymore.
I let it fester for too long,
Grow around my heart like a cocoon.
I hoped for a miracle that would make the sunlight
Change colours, like the ends of broken glass;
I forgot when you consumed poison,
It made you vomit alphabets…broken…
That wasn’t the intent.
I waited for my butterfly to emerge
With wings as clear as the May sky.
But what came of it?
A deformed monster,
Molded of my clamped insides
Hideous, broken, too weak to stir.
I had my spot of sunshine.
That was worth.
1 May 2015