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Rage – Musarat Ali

ImageThere are days when I mask myself into rage, out of pain. A constant pain. Of your wait. Of your surrounding. Of your aroma. Of your delicacy. Of your beauty.

In those days, I turn to oceans. Look at them with naked eyes. And grow a feeling of you holding my hand. Those oceans then rage into my eyes. My troubled eyes. My awaiting eyes.

And then those questions, those unanswerable questions. I drown in them. Carrying my own fault. With my own luck and your very soul. The depth grows every second till I touch the soil. And become a star. A dying star.

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Be with me..

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When the night comes, when the dark, desolated, grieved night comes. Singing ballads of grief when the night comes. You be with me, in my arms. You be with me in my soul.

When the blood of skies drops on me and when it becomes ointment for my wounds. You be with me to till they heal, till this heart in my wounded chest comes alive. You be with me.

When this sadness comes, covering me in its dark cloak. You be with me till it vanishes.

But if you don’t.

That dark, desolated and grieved night will clasp me in its power and enslave my soul. Those wounds will stay unhealed. And this heart will remain waiting, waiting to be alive. Until you come and set me free again. Until the death comes knocking and until my bones turn dust.

Stay close. Stay with me. Until the death. Until the end.

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