conflicted

I've read books with pages unending;

trudged on this route with vast miles unwinding,

I've looked at the blue sky, often beyond my eyes seeing-

and I know how frosty the beautiful ocean is, at times impossible of swimming.

But I forget not the journey that's broken my bark,

albeit the cardinal rule of never looking back.

I've witnessed rain bless my desert mind

I know the storm that's once flooded my soul without limits abound.

Detrimental has been my salty flow, even to the blind;

for an ulcer begs not for a lemon drop even for a second.

Listen as I recount my heart and mind's rhythm,

Conflicted, dancing to life's destructive whim.

I leak the wounds and curse the scars,

from seasons I've shed tears that blurs

beckoning scorn from those who never cares,

of the blinding pain of the two rivers.

They're always salty,

catastrophic in their abundance to a journey already faulty.

I look not beyond my eyes,

over this cold sea that warm air flies

for my ineptitude the future blurs-

dramatically drowning my dreary dreams.

Thence, I read not nor trudge,

neither for my shirk, life's impossibilities to judge-

trapped I am in this cage,

conflicted with my being.

Bunguswa Writes.