The pain of yesterday, I thought-
Was gone, forever gone

But it filled me more and more-
With ache of heart, the breach of soul

It shattered me to little pieces;
Numerous particles of love

Many fragments of a soul that-
Used to live and breathe of light

Now though, darkness is abundant-
Through redundancies of bile

In through a severed, broken spirit-
There flows fire, scorching burn

I’d been lost; for millennia of loss
I was gone; this I’d known for very long

There used to live, a little boy;
A soul of joyfulness & Life

There used to be, a little me;
Many centuries, far gone

How could they break that soul?
The frailty of a blossom!

What inhibited their being?
That futile breath of lust!

Was gone, forever gone-
The laughter of a child

Was there and ever present-
This pain of bleeding “I”

All this happened to this soul-
Many centuries ago

The ailment of this pain though-
Has lingered more and more

© Sina Saberi – 20 November 2013

12 thoughts on “Dolor

  1. The broken boy first needs to ask himself: do I want to return to my previous place of sunshine? If that answer is yes, then the broken boy has just taken the first step to being a fixed boy. If the answer is no, then let’s say being broken and in a dark place is equally beautiful – as in the eyes of the beholder.

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