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I was like a wounded soldier in a fierce battle,
with bruises, damages and injuries,
yet holding onto his guns and weapons,
for loyalty to his nation.
Though various threats and red lights
flash their bright eyes,
still, the fear of disloyalty
wouldn't make him back out of the war.
I was in a war with myself,
only I could understand the contents in me.
There were loads of the pasts that I didn't want to let go of.
The sacks of bitterness
that I thought could keep me warm,
waged war on me.
It was hotter than the hurts in my heart.
If I had known earlier
that holding unto those dangerous contents
endangers me more,
if I had known faster,
that a prompt and proper way of healing,
is letting go of the baggage of bitterness in me,
I wouldn't sleep for long
on the red sun.
Rising up on that red sun,
to recover the times I've lost,
the treasures I've buried,
to heal from my wounds,
tie my boot and continue from where I stopped my race,
I know I will survive it,
life will revive again without hurts.
Hope will be resuscitated,
the daze and doze will become realities,
life will happen again in a good way.
Roses will bloom and the coin shall toss to a positive side,
the dice shall roll double six.
I will smile and dazzle like the stars in the sky.
I will again by the green pastures lay
and never shall my river run dry,
As I rise up from the red sun.
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Blurt.
Thank you for your time.
My pen doesn't bleed, it speaks, with speed and ease.
Still me,
My tongue is like the pen of a ready writer.
Olawalium; (Love's chemical content, in human form). Take a dose today: doctor's order.
