Behind Every You Are the Thorns…

I know; getting you ain’t possible. Perhaps, in life, there’re some roads which no matter how long you walk, you never make your way till there, till you. Sometimes, I wonder why did I start this; journey? Perhaps not, for a journey has an aim. Yes, you’re my aim; you’re the one I want to get and here, I’m the one who wants my destiny to one day; the day which will surely come never; for which I’ll be craving forever; when I’ll be with you, when the journey here I”m going through has for me just the bruises and the scars; scars, I’ve got from you.

The destiny I’ve chosen is just another lullaby full of pain; slowly killing me from inside. The journey of me till the grave’s been so wonderful, that now, I don’t need to reach the grave to see how the hell the hell is. Trying hard to get you; running after you; screaming for you; praying for you and those empty nights, tears rolling out missing you; all has just hurt me, so much, that now I can just dare not to even imagine of you.

No, I don’t blame you; I swear you not for hurting me; for showing me the true faded colours of life for I’m the one who chose the rose. Beauty; the other name of blood; I conceive; the other form of hurt and the other incarnation of you; I tried to wet myself with the grace of the petals, with the fragrance of the blossoms; blossoms so baleful, so deadly which once again proved the biggest reality of life; of the world and of you; damn you; the truth; the damn affirmation; damn you; damn your beauty; damn everything, everyone and every single blossom; fragrance that’s wonderful; beauty that’s beautiful and the reminiscence that’s painful.

Perhaps not realizing the truth caused me to suffer; brought all these pain; when held the rose pierced the hand; the heart; damn you. But, thank you; thank you for making me realize this; for showing me and for unveiling the reality; the bloody reality; behind every beautiful thing is a pain; behind every rose are the thorns; the thorns; damn...