Thoughts of The Past

Stacks of my thoughts

Leaked like the grains

From a worn out sack

Of insidious craves

Heaped up like an unseen mount

Hard to climb that no one tries,

It swept away and scattered

In the unbreathable air

Gradually summed up

Like the grains of magnet

Formed back like a dome of rust,

None defied any separated

Cripple ones were carried

And the blind ones were controlled

But not even the half dead

Were left unwanted or shoved,

My heart wished to salvage

In the purest holy waters

From them, the misery and pain

That would follow me as if

They are born as my twin,  

I shook my head

I tap it forth and back

But it stayed stick

As a pavement of rock

Where the mud under my boot

Will always accumulate

Which will grow one day

From the tiniest hill to the peak
Like a sedimentary mountain…