The Museum of Egos

So here I am.
Silently drowned under the wrath of rain.
Trying to manifest every ripple of courage to go against the rage of waters.
Looking for a piece of soil where I can stand triumphantly, warm and dry.

So here I am.
Hiding under the roof of fate.
Summoning every spark of reason to go through my long list of word battles.
And still, not a single drop of blood can unleash the forty cries of pain.

So here I am.
Racing against the clock’s merciless hands.
But my feet remain unmoved, my hand unclenched, my spirit stagnant in a sea of plagues.

This could have been the demise of my grandeur,
the scarring of my face,
the fading of my name.

This could have been the shadow where the light is devoured into nothingness,
where  I go blinded,
where I shall surrender my will to hollowness.

But my eyes remain open, my mind coping, my heart beating.
At the end of this wandering, I find bliss.
That despite the continuity of circles, I still can write my name.
And then I know that I am truly alive.

So here I am.


4 comments on “The Museum of Egos

  1. “Racing against the clock’s merciless hands.”

    —>Conceptualizing myself if I’m lacking in time… Boundaries, Hindrances etc.:bullshit:
    Aj, change your title of this confession or poem perhaps…please…love this!:p

  2. @AJ Belandres
    masusunod po

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