Wednesday, October 12, 2011

The counts

I count over my fingers, all that many moments
I've been distanced from being within your care
All of those that had thoroughly consumed me
All of those that impaired my mental faculties,
Vitiated my psyche and obliviated my cognition
I feel to this very instant the living death I've had
The very feeling that time had held my breath,
And strangled me till my life was nigh oozed out,
And last dribble of my blood seemed to wither away
Oh! Am I alive? Or am I at the gates of infernal hell?
I can no more feel the pain for my senses have
Exterminated by their-selves- for the thirst that'd never
Been quenched, the smell that was never smelt
For the warmth that never soothed my turbulent heart
And for the form that existed within me has ne'er been
Formed by my eyes again- by the beams of my hope.
Dead or alive, whatever be me. If alive I shall one day
Feel your beat. If dead you certainly shall feel my soul.
Awake I'd be till that moment. And I shall count'em all.

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