Shehryar Khawar

He whips himself, he whips himself very hard;

the silent screams breaking into an ugly grimace

The cat-o-nine-tails screams like a mad banshee;

the knots striking in a frenzy, a blood thirsty race

Each lash is dedicated to one specific memory;

a black hole in the whole black vast space of life  

Each stroke exposing a white pulsating nerve;

a silver snake writhing under a very sharp knife

Go look at the sick pale face in the mirror;

how loathsome the face seems to appear

Look at him for long and look very closely;

you will find quietly lurking, a passive fear

Of failed dreams and victorious nightmares;

of a life utterly failed, loss of all that is dear

Come and visit the Dark Mother Mary;

she is the only one who truly loves you

Her pure wisdom has always been there;

you and only you, she will always be true

Let me tell you all a small little sad story;

a story so hilarious yet so painfully gory

Let me tell you all about a simple good clown;

who just wanted to serve, wasn’t after glory

Once there was a very small boat;

made of polished dark mahogany

It had to keep itself forever afloat;

habits were a strange homogony

You will never really know who I am in fact;

I may laugh my head off or even if I may cry

You will never really know who I am in real;

how deep you look or how hard you may try

One doesn’t wait for them to be found;

One doesn’t wait for them to be earned

Your hell is here, your heaven is here;

and so far this is all what I have learnt

All those who cultivate seeds of happiness,

will one day eat the bitter fruit of sorrow

It’s your destiny, your legacy my dear child,

prod your past, don’t seek a new tomorrow

The eagle soared high above the purple sea;

dark wings embracing the darkness of the night

A lonely lighthouse stood his vigil, tall and pale;

alone on the shore, a miserable and lonely knight

Outside, there is autumn – the colours of gold and rust

It comes for a month or two and then hits rock bottom

Inside, the autumn stays forever, heaps of ash and dust

It came when I was born, will leave when I’m all rotten