Complexity in Simplicity

Monday, July 28, 2008

.Where's my Mum?

He was helpless.

The magic in his life has shattered in the most disarraying way like it puzzled me now. Who would have thought that there could be tragic in magic too?

To (have to)be fearless of the feared. To be wishful only in his own fantasies, for the slightest mercy. He pleaded in ways that nobody does. He lived with the only hopes to survive, for a better day ahead. A day with a meal is deemed as a good day to him. He had it in all ways - the corners, the mirrors, the knocks, the hits, the screams and the chores. A day with his mum dead silent on the couch is a relief to him. What happened to the angelic nature of hers? She wasn't who she used to be. It was scary; to be accepting and having to defend an angel transforming into a devil.

He is a victim yet I noted and warned that he is a kin too.

My sympathy went all way out as the images through the words flashed.
From holding hands to tears.
From blue and orange streaks across the skies to the dullest grey that one could have.
From a good boy to a 'bad boy'.

Should I wish that he had nothing to start with or to live in extreme reminsce of the past in the present? Which would be more cruel? Cruelity exerts itself in two ways. To take the best of what you ever have away or to let you never have.

The broken clock is a comfort

11:21 PM

Labels: Books, Emo.., inner voices

doodled at Monday, July 28, 2008 by koon | Doodlelink |

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