Painted Maladies

To the one with deep pockets and mighty swords

and dazzling crowns of power and say
the wrung ballad of the zephyr
was drastically tuned to match the shreds of resilience
and thus storm was brewed to keep them safe
while I was blown to their lair of unknown.
Snuggled together in the fickle grasp of my resolve
all the while
succumbing to their enraptured beastly presence.
The tapestry of their exquisite realm was
woven with the replicas of assembled dreams
and trodden self-esteem,
covered with trampled over the sheath of apprehension.
Underneath the screeching heartbeat
bolted inside my skin, I curled over the scribbles
of shushed stories
titled excruciating pain of painted maladies.
The sounds of my struggles were caged in comfort
and comforted in the cage, identities more often duplicated.
Now that I lie at the bottom of the bottomless pit;
at the end of the endless woe
inside my candy-like dainty dome
disoriented on my own
and scattered as fragments in this mortal world,
I am traveling via uncharted vessel
towards salvation and through the point of no return.
Haunting shadows above all is my escape.
and now I am waiting for the time of their catastrophic take.
© srijaprasita