breathe in my grave.

but how in this world am i supposed to breathe 

where my shattered hope is left but to grieve, 

all in front of the eyes, yet truth became absurdity

the innocence they once called my prize became a casualty.

but how in this world am i supposed to breathe 

where i kill versions of me to fit in their definition of healed,

call myself a botherer, a presence they never so want 

and see my soul grow cold, but its not the winter's fault.

but how in this world am i supposed to breathe 

where i evermore feel ugly worth a hideous decree,

once a merry phoenix now scarred and wise 

the quilt over my head witnesses those muffled cries.

but how in this world am i supposed to breathe 

where with a joyous seize i call myself alright,

but only if they'd pick a lie detector for once

they'd be surprised to see how it spikes up like a kite.

but how in this world am i supposed to breathe 

where choosing me ever was to them a fatal disease,

but oh, that forever fable, a story they tell with glee

a mirage called happy ending of what it all seems to be.

but how in this world am i supposed to breathe 

where to no being am i ever enough, forever incomplete,

yet the wars i fight, to end the yearn of never being their pride 

wrap me up in a coffin, oh, what a triumphant defeat.

but how in this world am i supposed to breathe 

where love lost its throne to reason reigning supreme,

the kid who built the castle of joy and dreams

"but the tides would wash it away" oh logic, your vicious schemes.

but how in this world am i supposed to breathe 

where my lips call the truth a lie, where my eyes see the sun in deceit

my evil bruised heart never finds a place to call home

yet i wander impatiently, for someone to call me their own.

so i'd continue to breathe in my grave, the grave they fondly call as life 

but leave the threads of what could have been, a feeble voice with no more strength to strife.

here's this poem i wrote a while ago. when heart sank in unrecognised agony.