Wednesday, December 16, 2009

In pace requiescat

The hatred that conquers me
The vengeance that forsook me
I screamed into horror of hearing those words you spoke
Those words worked as daggers
And pierced right through me
Deep wounds they leave, with time they'll heal
And as it rains upon these
I see my blood wash off
And I try to realize, realize what it have done to me
It killed me, stabbed hard, and I died in grief
But peace, I desire
How to attain it?
How to stop the screeching sounds that run in my head?
And die with peace. Achieve liberation, and end this suffering
And today as they celebrate my death, with the funeral and the black theme
And so on my grave you leave flowers, those rotten ones with the broken love...

5 comments:

Kunal said...

Pretty nice.

Thousif Raza said...

pain pain pain. ah... it bleedes from your poetry.... you write wonderfully zoya, the pain is felt everytime i read what you write... its hurting me now... so i will leave


take care and keep writing............

RadhiKa* said...

Hotch.

Anonymous said...

What is up with all the pain and misery? Gee, lighten up.
I love the title though. The Cask Of Amontillado is an amazing story.
Edgar Allan Poe an amazing writer :)

Zoya said...

Thank you all.
And I'd look upto that.