Prena Poetry

I think the point where you live the life to its fullest magnificence is when you understand you no longer need validation, glorification or the utmost desire to bring the world under your feet. What great things I used to say when I was younger, what great things I dreamt about and ached to grasp it in my palms.

I hooted and I begged. I prowled upon the own misery I bred, and waited for someone to pull me out of the gutter. I spilled oceans and gave away my boats to the thieves who plunged their hand into my heart and took my morality. And I waited again, hoping; maybe, someone out would build a boat for me. Hoping; maybe I can do much more things in life and walk to the mountain top, despite the age-old thorns piercing my feet.

And I always prowled upon the thought that was just direfully pathetic, drenched in wallowing chaos—forcing art out of the inglorious emptiness resenting within me. I couldn’t even swim the ocean I created while the thieves who pretended to be lovers, could just walk over—as though a glass was being placed on the surface. But when everyone left, I would swallow shards, so I could bleed, so that I could feel.

For the hands that failed to pull me out of this violent river, thought me that pain is beauty and I am too beautiful to ever walk on this earth with a humanly heart,. Still then, I shall never stop being the soul I am. For maybe, this is what it takes, the price of existence.