Besmearing a myriad muses,
An abstruse matrix overlays.
Grief pleads to abreact-
Sometimes through my diary,
Sometimes through my canvas;
Murky shades elude.

But when pain overpowers-
Pen turns futile
And brush becomes dry.

The inner strife becomes unendurable.
Then, volcano erupts with all its fury,
Bloody tears ooze out like lava;
I helplessly lament,
Yet,
The abyss remains unfilled.

[^x^]
Right now, I've lost my rhythm. I have lost my existence. I have lost me. Someday day something would fill this bareness, this painful void, this dark abyss. That would be the day when my life revives. My life would get back its lost meaning, its lost rhythm that day.

I will come alive.

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Pr@GnY@
09/02/09