Tag Archives: despair and hopelessness

Slaughter of the Brokenhearted

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This isn’t just dark poetry. It’s a massacre in verse — and the victims are the unhappy who loved too much.

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Go and kill them, kill them slowly or kill them fast;

kill them with your abject disinterest and disregard

Kill them for they forgive you their very own murder;

kill them for their hearts are now too badly scarred

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Go and kill them while they are still awake or asleep;

kill them with your bitter tears or your divine smile

Kill them for they risked thinking of the impossible;

kill them for they for once dared to dream awhile

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Go and kill them without any guilt or even a little doubt;

kill them with your characteristic bland indifference

Kill them, for they already hate themselves too much;

kill them for they have no great desire, no preference

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Go and kill them with your burning, blood thirsty, lust;

kill them with a dark vengeance seething in your heart

Kill them for they themselves beg for this final end;

kill them for self-hatred, too, is sort of an unusual art

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Go and kill them with either your swords or words;

kill them with no grey regret and no guilt whatsoever

Kill them for their cold hearts are no more throbbing;

kill them for they are broken, and are surely dead forever

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Go and kill them, though killing them is no fun at all;

kill them, for they won’t be able to either resist or react

Kill them for they dared to love too much like fools;

kill them for loving only one, was their very final act

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Go, deliver the blow and kill them before it’s too late;

kill them without even a sliver of sympathy and kindness

Kill them, for they want to now sleep and rest forever;

kill them for they are tired of all this hollow sadness

The Inevitability of Sorrow (Previosuly, Seeds of Happiness and Fruits of Sorrow)

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What if happiness is only the beginning of sorrow?

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All those who cultivate seeds of happiness,

will one day surely, eat the bitter fruit of sorrow

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

just follow your past, don’t seek a new tomorrow

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All those who know how to love and how to care,

will one day surely meet a sad and lonely end

It’s bound to happen, oh please don’t weep or cry,

it’s not something broken that you can readily mend

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All those who dance, and who laugh clear and loud,

will one day surely shed the bitter tears of loss

It’s the rule, my friend, you can’t run and fight,

you always pay the price, you always bear the cross

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All those who forgive and carry no black grudge,

will one day mourn the loss of their own hearts

You can’t keep on giving, giving more and some more,

there’re always expectations, even when hope departs

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Those who plan and cater for all possible regrets,

will certainly be the most regretful of all in the end

Regrets are the fires that keep the memories warm,

without regrets, there’s only coldness, you can’t tend

The Custodian of Unfulfilled Dreams

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A kingdom where broken dreams go to die—and a king who refuses to abandon them.

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Far away from all this filth and all this stinking mold,

there is a secret and silent realm of unfulfilled dreams

The realm is colorless, neither silver nor purple nor gold,

no laughter or singing, just a chaos of cries and screams

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Each dream, once it’s shattered, and in pain it cries,

it enters the realm, hearing some command unspoken

The horn of time does not blow; it is silent and so wise,

as the dreams lay trampled, crying and utterly broken

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There he sits at the gate, the old and tattered King,

the sad custodian of dreams, he protects and lovingly guards

He has neither a throne, nor a seal, nor a royal ring,

he wears only a crown of thorns and sharp glass shards

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The dreams are his children, a few are even his very own,

he cradles their delicate heads and lovingly treats their sores

Some dreams have broken wings, and some have never flown,

yet he loves them all, whether they are his own, mine, or yours

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The King has tears in his eyes; he cries over the wounded dreams,

he knows they are going to finally die, his efforts are all in vain

The dreams whimper as life bleeds out, in rivulets and in streams,

the King knows they are the last drops of a rare desert rain

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Each dream, when it breathes its very last and silently dies,

he gently kisses its dead eyes, singing the last lullaby

The King is sad, oh, he is so very sad, but still he desperately tries,

caring for dreams, without asking ‘to what end’ or even a ‘why’

When Love is the Last Illusion (Previously, the White Dove of Hope)

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Condemned by fate, and mocked by hope, until one dangerous word appears – love.

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Oh, you sad children of a time so evil and dark,

you are all the product of undesirable circumstances.

Your love always went stale before it could spark,

though you availed all the emerging chances

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You were the anomaly in the grand scheme;

you should have been smothered when born

Sadly, the plan remained only a dream;

though conceived by the Devil with open scorn

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You knew while you grew, you had no roots;

you were the useless moss clinging to a boulder

You had no character, no faith, and no attributes,

yet the burdens of life, you carried on your shoulder

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But you all survived, and yet you go on living;

for what purpose, may I ask in all sincerity

When both fate and life are so unforgiving,

your sustained survival becomes a vulgarity

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Desist! I suggest, or surrender, I would advise;

nothing will help you persist or even grow

Throw the cards down; please be a little wise,

just cease all efforts and go with the flow

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What did you just say? Do I hear the word ‘love’?

Yes, perhaps, love is the only solace you may ever find

It is your golden butterfly, a beautiful white dove,

in a world filled with hatred, this word sounds so kind

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Go on then, caress its warmth while you can,

till the white dove forsakes and abandons you

You will be all done with life; there is no other plan,

nothing else over the horizon for you to view