A Letter to the Dust
Dear Dust,
A story I would share, the story in my mind; for the agony I cannot bear, is that I always find.
Read it out, read it well; I'm a voiceless song, a fireless hell:-
T'was raining.
Pregnant grey clouds buried hatred in their bosom and clapped with delight.
For me was twice younger when my hands touched the cold master in fright.
My fingers were frail, my lips were supple; my brown hair curled its tail as the shadow greased
my bubble. Now all I do is mewl, for I have lost my words; the thorns in my heart etched my
bones.
It is not raining anymore.
But, I still see those pregnant grey storm clouds hanging in my heart; unmoving stones keeping my soul bowed.
Now I am just an erstwhile glitteri, patched up with beauty, grinning sadly.
A drop of water kisses my breast, I look up.
This time it is not the rain, it is my tears. It pours down to the dust".
Please Dust, accept my tears with kindness. Thanks.
Yours sincerely,
A Broken Voice
Ninja
Books//Textbooks//Notebooks//Scrapbooks...
Confusion...
I'm at judo class..... the bell rings.
Pages littered everywhere, at me they stare. I stare back as I swing my sword back and forth, ready
for battle.
I cut them...
Yes, I cut them in bits with my sword like pumpkin leaves with a butcher's knife in preparation for
melon soup.
I lick my lips as the aroma of blood stings my nostrils.
My eyeballs fall into the pot, I stir it arrogantly, onion water make my eyes water, I hiss.
......a ninja in the kitchen.
With a back flip and a spin, I thrust my sword into the abdomen of my textbook as I watch its
content crawl down into the pot like maple syrup on an almond cake.
Death's delicacy.
I am scribbling notes like a toddler, tear my head open with the edge of my sword, and pour in the delicacy down to my spine as it envelopes my cerebrum//it's what I wished for though.
I stare blankly at my scribbled notes like a tasteless meal. I had killed all the ingredients I knew, and turned the dead into a delicacy.
I spat//I spat out my eyeballs and realized I was fighting backwards.
The bell rang, judo class was over.
I'd still be a Ninja.