My head is paining.
It is scattering piece by piece.
My scalp melts, to expose my bare skull.
You step on it, in pursuit of my brain.
You seek to make me better.
It pains a lot, though.
I push you off.
I breathe warning, I scream danger.
You back off, standing a soul away from me.
And then, you pour a tar of words,
Pure black and thick, it sticks to my chest.
I try to clean it with a paper with my words written on it.
But my words stick to your words.
I pull that paper off my chest, my heart is visible.
Naked and red, it throbs and cries over my sins.
You are attracted of its purity; hence you try to pull it away
From the demon you assume that resides in me.
But what can a pure heart do without an unpure mind?
All it can do is create a disbalance.
Maybe that’s why people accept souls.
They are unreachable, but at least they are answerable to you.
– Shantam Sahai