𝐀𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐲.

Now, it's just my soul, my ghost, hugging my dead body hanging from a branch of a green, breathing tree. Hanging from something so alive, and holy, while being so dirty and dead.

I woke up looking like an angel, and I thought I was blessed by a cursed demon who fell in love with me in my sleep.

All this rage slowly gathers deep in my throat, etched in like a sorrow that kills. And I know- and it knows- that it cries for freedom. And it will be free. It will run out of my throat, it will rip my neck from inside and set free. It will swallow my throat, my mouth- and I will vomit it out like rotting and highly concentrated acid. And I will vomit on myself, or at anyone it lays its eyes upon- but for sure, it wouldn't even leave their ashes spared.

Every small leaf landed on your hair is a big warm smile from stranger trees that look at you.

You can not end a fool because they keep multiplying. However, it is geniusness that is impossible to even double.

Everything was so ethreal to me. Every single thing about it was filled with magic, sunlight and looked eternal. But just after she followed, Just after she learnt it, Just as she took it as her own- it rotted. It died like it never was eternal. It looked ugly like it never was the spring of my heart. Now I look at it's true beauty, only to see it vanish every once after hearing her name beside it.

They didn't think twice before killing. Why are they entightled to the forgiveness of the dead lamb?

Every inch of guilt hits me too hard. Any small foolishness of mine just stays at the bottom of my heart like a huge rock at a road. If I can't remove the rock, I'll move. That's why I run. That's why I leave. If I can't remove the rock, I'll move to a road with no rock. But what would happen if the entire world becomes covered in such rocks? I suppose I'll just have to find a new world then.

You know what is much more overpowered than infinite intelligence? Fate. Destiny. However, in whichever language you may put it in. Because in truth, It was the same fate that granted you an infinite intelligence.

I had long hair, never beautiful, but long. And when I cut it off, I was happy- I was free. But now, it's all growing back, and along with it, the cages are too.

I started believeing in God again, the moment I laid my eyes on your moonlit sculpted face.

Whatever in mind, it will always bleed; like a screaming beast behind bars, it will always come out. Like a betrayed dying dog, it will always come out.

You were my quiet sunrise after a lifetime of night.

A God could never love the devottee as much as the deveottee loves the god.

I live like a dog that's been tied for years and years. Now it stays still even without a rope. It would always be still. It will never move again.

God is watching me, and when I die, he will cradle the child I was and ask me, "What went wrong? You were so devoted and wouldn't say anything but my name. But now you grew to hate my name and any line with it is the line you despise." I'll burn in hell and look up at you in heaven with so much love in my eyes- the same eyes that despised all gods that i ever spoke of with faith, and i'll burn and burn and burn, but all that i'll feel is awe because even in earth or heaven you still look like the god that was always above and greater than any angel or god. All while the child in the same cursed god's arms stare at me with love, hatred, disgust, fear or shame- none of which i'll know, none of which will matter, because to my eyes, you'll be the one thing i can see while the hell fires burns me alive and i'll watch you happy in heaven with dreamy eyes as my ears hear the screams of hell.

I only loved the sick child in you. I never loved you. I can never love wholly. I can never, truly, love.