The slow beating of the heart,
breath's stuck as if there's a lid on.
It has been raining for days;
But it's like I'm covered in raincoat overalls.
The bitten lips and the clenched fists,
Tell the tale of the darkest fears.
The night before the dawn or the night before more nights,
What's uncertain cannot be clear.
The swollen eyes, the reddened pair,
the ones with black caves dug beneath,
Hold the sorrows of the previous night
and many a previous nights indeed .
The pain that's more inner than outer;
The one that hurts like a thousand needles pierced deep.
Has taken the consciousness of the mind,
Leaving behind a long black dream.
Thin layers between the real and the imaginary.
Like onion peels none different from the other.
Each layer peeled off one at a time;
Only to find each one to be alike.
Like the chair with woven plastic and metalled edges,
Only the frame is strong but not the body.
Any minute a knife can cut through
And make it unfit for further use.
The cold is still there when a blanket covers.
And so is the eternal winter of the heart.
If the sun melts the ice to water,
Would I be the one who melts or the one who evaporates?
