WORDS NEVER SAID!

There seems to pass some…years of happiness and prosperity,

but beneath the smile lies hideous and dark clouds of shame and agony,

yet [HE], the greatest of man claims to suffer more than he,

bearing the weight of [ALL].

He weeps as he tries to believe these words.

They sound silly and gibberish, yet oddly true.

However, effortless questions come tumbling out like a key had opened its lock.

“FOR HOW LONG”…how could such three simply words constitute this much pain?

Words like nails, nailing him in his coffin.

The pain twists in his stomach like a knife, a serrated knife, rusty and ragged.

“Ouch” would be an understatement.

Searing agony in his eyes,

Once dark brown, they burn in their sockets.

His fingers scrape against his skin as if to rip it off.

 A tear drops, the paper turns red as he tries to analyse and translate his own TRAGEDY

To uncover the never fading dark spots… Still no success.

In his mind, he has found a proper place for drama. His OWN theatre.

He doesn’t need actors or stage,

nor a dressing room and certainly no need for the audience for he is his OWN audience.

A random disjointed voice tells him to throw in the towel, but guilt.

It comes like the cold of the winter, leaving dark cloths of blood.

The best friend offers his hand as he comprehends the pain.

He has seen him on his knees, like a slave at the foot of the master,

with a face of a man as if he were burning at stake.

He has held his hands in assurance for support

They have prayed and cried together.

STILL, the friend KNOWS NOT the anguish

There lies a huge difference between KNOWING and UNDERSTANDING

At least, that’s what he thinks.

Maybe none can be called happy until that day when they carry their own happiness down their grave in peace, HE THINKS

But what if these tears clean the windows of his soul

What if this pain conceives something good after all?

And what if strength is all there is in this weakness? Only if he could just stop running away,

but how he could not, when he finds happiness in it.

When every time he extends his courtesy, he brings a smile on ones face

When there lies a spark of hope in his laughing and talking.

[Talk, lough, talk and lough a bit more and lough lough lough]

 At least such brings him happiness.

 Maybe as a person set apart,

A suffer in whom others seem to find redemption,

Then maybe a special and wonderful end is reserved for him

Yeah, an ending without grief or agony,

An ending more marvellous than that of any other man.

Maybe there is light and healing in this wrenchness after all

Maybe this agony is yet to be resigned by long endurance

Maybe someday everything will make perfect sense. So for now, I’ll laugh at the confusion, smile through these tears and keep reminding myself that everything happens for a reason

He STILL hopes.