The Coward of the City

Let my scars bleed,
For I am the coward of the city,
I dare not to look into my scars.
The hymns of evening is stuck in my throat,
And I spit out contagious poison.
I cannot see the scars in my body,
I only see the blood oozing out,
For I am the coward of the city.
The land and the herdsmen ran away,
The women and the children disappeared.
My vanity experienced a meltdown
In the battlefield,
My swords and words search for a meaning.
Thirsty and alone,
My surroundings applause at my fate,
But I demand,
Squeeze me easily, my fate.
Dare not to befriend me,
For I'm the thorny flower in the garden.
Glad that the city has abandoned
Its coward,
For this world demands heroes,right or wrong
Who looks into their scars and
Stops the bleeding.
But I'm the coward, who looks into the blood.
Spectral lights envelope the bloody me
And guardian angels fly away,
In search of heroes.
As immovability takes charge of my body,
The vocal chords form the last
Words of cowardice,
"But what can be done when you
Are given a rusty sword and
Broken language?",
Which never came out of the mouth,
For the wrong hero has
Snatched the last breath.

A.C

Comments

Recognition

'Happy Women's Day ' Those three words transformed her. It changed her imperfections into Perfections. It fastened her daily Chores. It gifted a smile to her Face. It motivated her Spirits. It gave rhythm to her Heartbeats. It made her Hairs dance. It increased the sweetness of her Lullaby. It brought back the glitters in her Eyes. It was the recognition from her Husband. A.C

Dear Gretta

Dear Gretta, Your songs are like a poem that was long forgotten, that gives a dejavu everytime I listen to it. It reminds me of New York City where you felt alone, where you were ditched by Dave and where you found yourself through Dan. You were never ready to compromise, you were fully conscious of what you were doing and never doubted your own instincts. Even when you felt a connection with Dan, you helped Violet to reconnect with him, bringing out the beautiful guitarist in her, which eventually got him back to his family. Yet you smiled for being the reason behind reuniting Dan with his family, you smiled even when you knew that this would leave you all alone again. You gave yourself truly into your songs that you could not tolerate the loss of its essence, the mere commercialization of it. You breathed music, danced and walked with it. Even when you knew that those are fleeting moments, the moments in New York City where every song in you...

Blame Me!

Blame me for not being you. For not reflecting your perceptions. For being me. For blooming the flowers of odd hues in my garden. For carrying a heart full of poetry and mind full of seasons. For being summer than spring, For being mist than rain, For listening than speaking, And for scattering than gathering. Blame me for deviating from the ideal human, Because my pursuits of happiness are different from yours. A.C

THE FORGOTTEN STORIES

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