Knowing Me...

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If I say I'm just a teenager leading a life as normal as it can get, I sort of defy what I stand for. Its not all that easy but it has its moments. I like those moments when they come along and they bring with them a significant amount of emotion, which I only began expressing in words at age 7. Since then, its all about the writing. It gets to certain people and some just don't get it! But I think that its important for me to write because that is maybe the only talent that exists in me [not denying the presence of good enough speech to win a few here and there =P] There is little I know and there is much I simply yap about but I make sure that if its really got to be said, it better be said, however in the wrong or right. I feel much. There are lot of things I plainly observe and those are sort of the things that I adore writing about. I'm inspired by minute details and small things that have a huge impact much later on. There is much more to me that most know and many have bothered not about. Not like I want them to. But I'd like to be known. And that's what I think I stand for, being known beyond what is known. =D

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

2 a.m. Phone Call

Today we’ll call it death
death of the night.
The television still rings in her eyes
the neon lights deafen her still.
Past the point of no return.

She smells in the air
the hope, lingering.
She’ll sleep in an hour more.
She’ll kill another minute.

Knives of iron-clad will,
and soft brushes of the wind
to finish off the top coat.

It’s done. Or so she thinks.

Maybe there’s another battle
somewhere on the horizon.
Maybe she’ll chance another duel
and get her way with life.

With a caress and a touch
a soft balmy kiss comes crashing down
and the evidence swept
under the menacing moon.

Maybe she’ll chance upon rebellion
of the coffee and rust underneath her skin.
The silence is within
but the television is still on mute
and she says she didn’t try.

It happened. And today
she’ll turn mass murderer
serially killing
all her nights with a whiff
of a dice-rolled fate
and the shadows of the light.

It’s the dead of night
and the night is dead.

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