Stigmata of rapture soul

Stigmata of rapture soul

My tears grew for more shine,
i celebrated it,
bleeding red wine..
something was burning inside..
ripping with all ease,
it has it’s deepest sharp..
rending, scorching my heart,
what has died inside..?

“no more running..
no where to go,
‘n no more hide..”

doom ? or should call it destination..
no more pretending…
yeah ! can see no one standing
it’s just me, gazing in the dark..
waiting to go numb,
what’s left behind..
a soul that lingers,
that dwell across heart..
I’ve made it glow,
‘n now its dripping out of  my veins..
to make the flow,
then no more hurting,
no burning.. no scorching..

you may call.. it insane,
i say it “the stigmata”
of a ruptured soul..
away from the pain..!!!

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Baby when you’re gone.

Baby.. when you’re gone !

I tried to play the song..
“Baby when you’re gone..”
Cleared the dust..
tuned.. my guitar,
tied the chords..
hit the strings..
hell.. that too sounds like
the broken thing..
like a ruptured soul,
with broken wings…
then I sung the next line

“days go on ‘n on
and night seems so long”

Picked up the pencil..
and the kit, tried to sketch
the beauties around..
my barren harvest..
the torment dusk
but no dawn..
hell.. that’s all, I could find..

“oh, this is torture, this is pain,
it feels like I’m gonna go insane”

my broken woes..
torn, horrid sketches..
the broken string..
and that song,
like the husky..
whisper in the distance..

“things just feel so wrong,
baby when you’re gone”