WHAT DOESN'T KILL YOU WOULD?

what doesn`t kill you will make you join a cult , that nobody knows about ,

 so you go ,

 bathe in blood & few bones from the ages of satire and red gem stones , 

that they throw  , 

so you take, an oath at that cult of choices , that once gave you chances 

Chances to fail and fear without noises, 

the fulcrum of feats that they lost now 

but you are the leader of that cult and that eccentric town. 

What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger

When you want to be softer and calmer

What doesn't kill you, makes you sophisticated

When you want to wiser and nicer,

What doesn't kill you makes you go around in circles

And come back with axes in the middle of the mayhem

To kill your emotions , to kill the constant dialogue 

What doesn't kill you makes you kill everyone 

What doesn't kill you makes you cautious in sight 

Cautious enough to never fully commit & try. 

So you let them kill yourself instead, 

Once with a blade, so you could see the Incision

Wide open, The gore of the battle was crimson & vicious 

And the act was the commitment of a crime scene that felt so audacious. 

So I can kill them and my anathema of the versions I have created of them in my mind

I am a writer and I write to desperately & indefinitely die 

But I chose to sleep instead, so they can kill me easily at least this very time 

No marks and no incision Of any kinds  

But they don't some how, what a missed opportunity to get the false crown . 

Guns in my bag and knives in my stack

All to kill myself, all to kill the versions of my better halves who make my worst self to come Out ? 

Not even eventually but constantly, everyone now then, 

Who to decide? 

Who to get the headgear of this insolent  pride? 

What did't kill them , 

Made them atrocious about our fights

That happened long ago

And I can see those too because I am the fan of what ifs in my mind 

I love the potential, 

but I am so afraid to even once be arduous enough to ever try

All this hurt but I never once cried

All this disgust but all my sleeps are fine 

To not end up together but not even never deny , 

It didn't kill me

It didn't treat me fine

Am I the wrong guy? 

Am I really into him this time ? 

But was I ever into any single one of them? 

So Let me write poems about my muses

I have lost the count of my bruises

Inherent stalemate, deadlock in their eyes

All my loses were some time before wise - vice choices, but no one has really been on my  choose list. 

Till the end of my lifetime

I think I am the lost daughter of an American Singer

You love or hate her 

Am I the Taylor Swift of 2029?

Because like her I don't have any partners in my craft or in crime. 

But I am afraid to be like her, 

all this damn time

What doesn't kill you, 

Comes back! Fool around and never really admit ! 

That killing is an immortal act and jail is not a career choice of bliss  

What doesn't kill you, 

Make you wake up in a psychiatric ward , 

What doesn't let you live, 

Would haunt you for your bloody life & make you starve Of course. 

There is no point of this damn life , 

But I see nothing really to ring a bell in my mind, 

So I join the cult , the cult of contentment

But I hear the Carcasses of insane rise 

From the graves , where gentlemen cries

From The gardens , where landlord loses their only child, 

From the place, where God is ungrateful to watch out the mediocrity of this mankind . 

A man is a man, a lady is a lady, 

A maniac is a maniac, an occultist is an occultist

But I am a poet, and I act like a prisoner

When I want to be a human, but I feel like a caged bird with lost sight . 

Where are my specs? 

Where are your honey truths sounding more like lies? 

What doesn`t kill you would make you own a cult very later in life, 

& then kill everyone of those who once joined , before the clock strikes 2:09.

But Let me at least properly try

Before killing everyone of these guys  

And change the augur this very time

So they don't put me in the asylum of assumptions

Where all my past lovers are my passion projects and potential guides

That leave me, on the foot steps of our very last fight. 

I wanna run, but I really wanna try

I wanna stand still, but can I please die? 

What doesn't kill you, 

Would put you in a long coma 

But what doesn't make you feel right in your gut 

Will surely make you silence your empathy & sit with your alchemist mind for a very long time 

Brooding the purposes of marriage & consummation when ultimately we all have to tolerate each other & die. 

So you would  develop a passion around your relationships and possible life what ifs 

And simultaneously forget to process the grief and forever pine , 

Sitting in the canopy of the pine tree

Loving your books & hating the boys 

" To be what you really wanted to be "

But all you ever wanted to be was the real choice of one damn guy . 

A worthy ideal that someone would try for, 

That something would die for

But isn't this a partial lie? 

Because the list is long and the line is longer 

So you pick and choose the best like your mother

But when you feel heard

All your pride dwindles

The wind settles in and the trees smile. 

The wind will take us away

The wind will clear our stay. 

What doesn't kill you, 

Would make you alive , 

From the graves of ghosts that you tamed for a while

What doesn't kill you, 

Makes you taste life twice and dine 

Even when it tastes sour and sweet at the very same time 

So you wanna run , like you are an abandoned child

What doesn't kill you 

Will be your weapon in disguise 

Will be your night in shining armor

Will be your friend in crowded corners. 

But the fact remains the same 

what doesn't kill you 

Will bleed in your skin & your bones for sometime,

to ultimately turn you into a great poet even without trying. 

What doesn't kill you,  

Would make them comeback to you ,

for you to eventually realize

That , none of them was ever worth your time.

Making you turn All Sacrosanct & bonafide.

Leeza