Man... see I've scripted many poems for women that will never know those pieces were meant for them, for the mere fact that they told me I wasn't meant for them ... but now they keep asking who I wrote them for and my heart forces my mind to tell them lies which cover-up the truths stuck within the grains floating in and out of the shadows of time.

See... It's easier to trust a lie than allow your soul to go through the torment experienced while staring into an abyss, an abyss you once thought to be the gateways to a future happily distant from your past. But the past shows that unless you speak truth into existence... your indifference, will result in their continued ignorance to the matters of your heart.

But... I say fuck the heart that never did more than break every-time the mind took the chance to allow it to make decisions on matters of love. Because lust may leave you feeling empty but it's an emptiness that still holds a soul un-shattered and devoid of the pain felt by the prickling effects of shards, which once used to be that very same heart but as a whole. Man ... I'm talking about, I'm talking about art.

So... Now new utterances of truth seem to be plaguing my psyche once again ... Oh, how I've missed the whisper of these Angels and Demons that exist within the shadows of my soul, never allowing me an inch of peace as they battle for the glory of a win that leaves everything else dead within, just to claim they won the war in the battlefield of not only OKIN's heart and mind ... but of his life and everything else held in-between, which would eventually culminate into something more than the story itself. Something which would bring out the true essence of every individual stroke that paints this loveless reality I still deem to be a wondering fantasy... I'm a hopeless romantic you see...

Yet... There's nothing I wish for more than for you to hate me, because maybe that may last longer than this ill-fated-twisted dance I keep playing out in my head... just to know that a shred of my memory might still linger on in your mind, and just maybe ... you might still think of me from time to time or that this piece of writing may make you think of me at least once again.

See... I've scripted many poems but held even more back to remain unwritten. So many poems that will remain unspoken...

Originally published: https://www.barnonegroup.com/2017/11/the-many-poems-of-nikolai-tjongarero.html