On The Identity Crisis
Who am I?
What if I told you the sun would not rise, and if it did you would never feel it on your skin, and if you did you would never feel its warmth? What if I told you are at war, a losing war? What if I made your blood freeze within your veins at the grotesque image of the life you have lived and somehow learnt to love? What if I burst your bubble? What if I gave you a message from beyond, just enough to make you pull the trigger of the gun in your mouth, maybe kick the stool and suffocate yourself? What if I gave you the power to be invisible, to be you? Who would you live for? Who would you die for? Would you ever kill?
I like how the mind roams when the head is filled with smoke. I would trade my world to be smoke, to be grey, thin, insignificant yet powerful enough to start or end a war. To seep into people's minds, walk in their shadows, break their walls, and open the coffins of their youth that lie in their hearts and see them naked, break them, leave them vulnerable then disappear into thin air. Imagine the power to see beneath, to recognize emptiness and feel less alone and less abandoned. Imagine being the source of a high, being so dangerous yet so loved. Imagine being a solace. being true, yet vile. That power makes my skin crawl from within. Imagine being cast out as wrong, condemned but being a source of a freedom unfathomable to man. Imagine it all at your feet. A mallet that breaks them and makes them.
Have you ever wanted to run? Do you want to be the rush in the wind, the frost that turns their fingertips purple? Are you fighting yourself? Have you fallen apart? Do you grope in your darkness? Do you want to be found? Can you hear the dry thunder you are suppressing? Where is your soul? Why won't you run? Do they know you? Do you know you? What would you be without you? What if I told you when it ends it ends? Does it scare you? What if I told you you are the venom that kills yourself? What If I told you that the war you wage above your throat and behind your eyes kills you slowly? Would you keep fighting? When will you answer? How fragile are you? How famished is your soul? What do you crave the most? What would you give?
Pain. I wonder whether it knows how deep it cuts. Deep enough to make a pit. I wonder why the heart still beats when it's utterly broken. I wonder why the body still yearns when it has been defiled. I wonder why light insists on seeping where it is not needed. I wonder why we believe that there is no surrender in ashes yet there's nothing left of it. I wonder why the animal within us never falls by our sword despite having been fought for ages. I wonder how hot anger burns. I wish to quantify bitterness. I wonder why we say we are tired yet we never take rest. I wonder why they want us naked yet they can never jump the cliff with us and if they do, they never fall as fast. I wonder why we build walls and condemn the fact that we are lonely. I wonder why we still stand on our feet yet the earth is breaking and the stars are falling. Thunder is speaking, tempests are building and I see sparks in the sky. Lightning is about to strike. Why do we insist on having faith yet it's just a word? Why is there dawn after darkness not darkness after dawn? Why do we cast darkness out as evil? Why do we insist on trusting yet its breaking is inevitable? Why do we fall when we break, and if we fall, why don't we scream and if we do why are our voices not hoarse? Are we living to die or have we died to live?
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