Today

God knows
I have battle scars.
He knows
what goes through
inside me
when nostalgia
catches me in
a wave.
I mean, what does He
not know?
He knows I spit
words I have so much
loathe on like
I'm intoxicated with them.
The fact that I keep
so much to myself has haunted me
since the day I was
stranded in the middle of
nowhere in a storm.
And I realize that
at the end of the day,
all I have is myself & the emptiness
in my rotting soul.
Considering it a permanent mark
inside me,
I get all numb and naive
without a reason why.
Day by day,
I cross out everything I despise
in my head but then,
in disappointment, I thought
to myself: 'if storms were
meant to go away, why does
it keep on lashing on me?'
everything piles up just like
a snowman I'm trying to
make in a blizzard.