J.I.N

The wound left on me,

Begins to ache,

Though excruciating,

I hide my trembling heart and pretend to smile,

It has been long,

It seemed like it had freezed,

The season I have been waiting for seems drifting further,

I shut the sight that sees the world,

And streams flow down from the eyes,

I have been enduring,

Tremble as the heart leaps,

Disheartening as the dampened spirit,

Everything suddenly become unclear,

When time passes by,

What will be left for me,

My  heart going to to wish for a miracle?…….

Or just a………..scar….

Unfeigned,

I am helpless to the immutable reality,

Pine over the long yearn freedom,

Yet,

Torpid by the never ending flow of tasks,

Being ameliorate to the eerie dusk,

Is a strength that deny obliteration,

Teeter on the edge of nothing,

Contentious lips to lips chat,

Contrite to the path taken,

Who is culpable for the melancholy?

The journey has been torpid,

I put my hands together and pray,

That I would not be vilify by it,

Reticent as the silent spring,

Enervate by the scorching summer,

Assuage by the innocuous autumn,

Discretion as the emollient winter,

When the snow melts,

I believe the city would be vivid and colorful,

Once again