Punk Pøetry

cheers

Welcøme tø my wørld.

A different, yet familiar wørld

And as yøu enter my wørld, there will be quite a handful øf key things that will catch yøur attentiøn

Firstly, yøu may recøgnize the smell øf gasøline, alløwing it tø incinerate yøur lungs

Secøndly, yøu may nøtice the buildings have grøwn, much, much taller

Funny høw witnessing a change in møtiøn can make yøu sø nøstalgic

And Again, yøu knøck upøn yøur førehead, and yøu ask yøurself "why has my cønnectiøn turned paper thin?"

"Why dø I, sø greatly want tø destrøy every link between myself and this gødførsaken area?!"

Every checkpøint ønly serves tø weigh yøu døwn

What have yøu døne?

"What have I døne?"

Why did yøu cøme back?

"Why did I cøme back?"

Why did yøu hesitate tø let gø?

"Why did I hesitate?!" She stømps her feet, løudly, nøt even realizing the way she being fed lies, by the vøices in her head

She stands there, fists curled, gritting teeth, bødy trembling

Tears førmed, weighing her entire bødy døwn by a tøn

She brøke.

Fell tø the street in deafening søbs, nøt even cønsidering ever getting up

She was stuck tø herself

"I can't dø this..." She felt the essence øf life drag øut øf her thrøat viølently, as if she was hurling bløødstained chains, weighing møre numbers than she cøuld cøunt øn her fingers

And søøn after, her størm døes pass

Her emøtiøns becøme as tasteless as what's been chewed

Her breathing duplicates the rhythm øf the trees, as they lean in mercy øf strøng winds

Strøng winds....

She realizes a størm is apprøaching

And where døes she gø tø take cøver?

She gøes back tø the persøn she's here før

She came back før him and he welcømes her and shelters her frøm the rain

He feeds her, as she is pøør and empty

He warms her as she is shivering tø the brøken søul øf her timid bødy

He treats her wøunds as she has endured scraping and scarring øf løneliness

He alløws her tø rest, as she is human and there are nø exceptiøns

But as she rests, she wishes tø never wake

"If I rest here, may this be my final resting place?"

And as she cønfides in her wish, she never lifts her head up frøm her pilløw, nøt even tø respønd tø his calls øver the days

And sø he cømes cløse sømeday

And he asks "why have yøu cøme here?"

She thinks nøt tø answer but is søøn persuaded øtherwise, by the truth

"Why have yøu cøme here?" He repeats?

And sø she answers

She says

"I am here because I am nøt wanting tø die withøut yøu"

He reacts nøt by vøice, but by silent facial expressiøn, she chøøses tø dismiss the sight øf him regardless, still nøt lifting her head

"Yøu wish tø die?" He questiøns

"I wish tø die, nøt anywhere else but in yøur shelter" she cønfirms, withøut hesitatiøn

"Hm....and by what means shall you  die?" He asks førcefully, and she respønds in a giggle

"Ønly by the means øf time dø I want tø turn tø dust and memøry, lain in yøur bed. Until then, let me rest"

And what møre can he dø but respect her wishes?

He leaves, silently.

He never enters the røøm where she sleeps but her presence never leaves his mind

She's already a spirit øf this høuse beføre she is deceased

And øne day, she will pass.

Øne day, he'll ønly wish tø pass in the same area, next tø her

"Till life dø us part, till life deal us death and till death grant us øur reuniøn"

"Cheers" he smiles, ending this day øn his thøughts.