I wonder, am I too old and seen it all
Or have I endured more than my sins had committed to.
It might be that my trials have lost their ability to shake me?
I wonder, why, when deeper the infliction is,
The bigger is my indifference or the eerie poise that follows.
[The biggest is my fleeing from my own cremation]
It is just a cold smile and a sour recognition
That incinerate my lips & eyes in acknowledgment of new torment.
I wonder, Who’s that monster within me?
feeding on my crumbling, then whispering triumphantly;.
“it’s not new, let it go & let me live for I’m your saviour”
[In that moment of doom, I can’t hate that monster]
I wonder, How an ominous sense of deja-vu cradles me in its arms
When my expectatins, love & trust backlash…
It’s then that monster wakes up from slumber, again,
with sympathetic albeit determined eyes,
Clawing my grief, sucking on pain, marking me..
Yet freeing me, letting me escape my burial once again.
[Only to wear that nonchalant calm demeanour & cutting smile.]
I wonder, what’s my true identity?
The monster within, who numbs the sting of the backlash
or the one that’s me_the whole being_ loving unconditionally.
It’s sobering to know that every joy_if i come across any_
shocks me to the core;
Unreal & mistaken it appears, like it is only here to leave.
Other than that all seems happened, known & done.
I wonder is this a punishment or a power or a twist of both?