Broken Souls

Thousands of miles away
in the house under the skies
of grey
By the streets 
which reek of blood,
shed from the throats 
aching for life,
Slayed by a demon
with his knife

In the dungeons of demons
A boy is held around with
chains of thorns

They say
he calls for his mother
every night in his dream
when he screams
Hold my hand
I cannot stand
this dark night
my soul cannot

Won’t you 
hold my head
in your lap
Your fingers 
running in my hair

I turned blind
they stole my light
and everything
has turned
into dark

I am tired
I hear gunshots
Echoing in the deep valleys

when I can’t make out
the night from the day
I see myself running 
in that cold november
by the Maharaja’s Bazaar,
smells of Zafran mixed
with those thousand spices

I will not live
to see you again
But when you see me
don’t let that tear fall 
On my corpse

I have left everything
to his will
There’s no existence of me
Except of what he seeks from me
The punishments have stopped
hurting me further
I don’t feel the lashes 
Or the telephone wire
cranked with bolts of power

There’s no torture
that can break the heart
which has given himself up
to his path
Broken bones may mend
but broken souls
they stop living



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s