The lines on my palms

Indicated the Fate

that had driven away my

Desire to breath--

Through the Life that had spoken

Words of a monster through my ears

The noise was the sound of a foul tongue

And taste was of a pungent smell

I carried a glass within my hands

until those very palms turned red

I shattered the crystals against the sand

Where they could never be found again

The wind was blowing madly about

The sound of a girl screaming for

Her mother seeped slowly

Into my soul--which was

The color of  gray smoke

The emptiness of a fisherman’s basket

Reflected my hope

Every last word that

Had been poured into my heart

Was taken apart

The impeccable resistance towards

The blue sky, was what caused

Thunder to succumb to my Mind

They say letting go of the past is hard

The past is like a torn kite

Nostalgia pierces the hearts of many

But mine is the pain of sentimental regret

While my future held the key

To my past

It was hard to comprehend

Should I throw away that key

and trade it for another?

A separate ergonomic tool

Should be utilized to

Help me comprehend--

That the past is worth

Letting go of

When the future radiates

The shower of contentment

Put salt to my injuries

Grab my nerves from their settlements

Rub off my brown of its beauty

The most nonpareil way of doing this

Is to rob me of my heart--

To stab a knife through my self-reliance

The self existence  

Tear apart the dirt that lies within my skin

Take away my dignity

As if it were just a drape on my shoulder

Take away my hopes