Cursed Cycle

The well of tears runs dry,
Even the soul can’t cry,
The rain can’t heal this drought,
A vicious curse has been brought,
Keeping the mind point blank,
Uttered words are sealed with planks,
Voices kept unheard,
The heart thumps violently,
Wailing to speak out…
Sadly ignored and repressed..
Locked in the deep conscience,
Filled with broken spears,
Stained with dry blood,
Stale and musty in scent..

Sometimes the sun will shine,
Through the tiny creaks,
Bringing few strips of ray,
Sending vibes of joy and warmth,
Kept the thumping softer,
Quiet during the day at least..
The broken fantasy is mend,
Subjectivity is grasped,
Even though it is short life,
Its aspiring..