My emotions dictate my hands
to spew chaotic words,
to hurt the paper
and torment the pen,
toss it back and forth,
up and down,
disharmoniuosly, mercilessly.
Let it suffer my madness,
its ink be my tear.
Catharsis they call it,
but it is the only fight in me;
it’s my desperation,
my gut knotting fear,
my disoriented blows
as I expurgate my feelings,
fighting back,
trying to order the chaos
that my life has become-
a life of poverty and riches,
of agonizing pain and ecstasies,
of elations and depressions.
Oh! My life of similarities and differences!
My beliefs become my doubts,
realities expectations.
Its my wretched life of uncertainty.
My poor neglected soul
has nothing but self pity;
its own tears to wash away its sorrows.

But my tears glitter
like jewel of finest luster;
in my pain and poverty
is faith, hope, for a day of bounty,
and the agony I have
reminds me that I live.


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