Poems by Winter Nyala (best books to read for beginners .txt) 📖

like the blood in my veins,
as the coldness of it, rushes out with the rage of the rain.

 

 

 

The Hollow Ones

The world is a cruel place to live in. Wars, fights, battles… Hardly any peace and no quiet… Death, death is everywhere. Can you see it as you walk on by, past that man lying on the ground? Can you feel it as the spirits, Lost in the world between life and death, Pass through your body, trying, trying their hardest to get to the other side. They are lost, because the world is lost. There is no place where they can go now. For now, the world has left them, they are alone, again. Once in life and now, after life. There is no place to go. No foods or drink can quench their hunger. Not even the wildest passions can help them now. They are empty, of love, hate, joy, sorrow. Nothing can past through their solid walls of emptiness. Yes, they are the hollow ones. Told by many, from the beginning, that they would never be full. Of anything really. Be it, life, or death. Just because they died, means nothing to them. Or to me for that matter. I tried once. To join their ‘merry band’. I was at that point in my life, where nothing could cheer me; nothing can make me even the slightest more, happier. I wore a fake smile. Laughed a fake laugh. I wear my body, like I am important, like I belong. But all in all, I am the empty one. I have the hollowness of the shell, surrounding nothing inside. That is the reason it is hollow. For it has nothing to protect. Hell, even the tears seems like they don’t exist. They hurt, burn, sting my eyes. My heart. My very soul. And if I do cry, I feel as if they are not my own tears. They are not, me, they never were. And never will be. I heard a voice once. It was so far away, as if a whisper. I strained to hear it. But on that day, while I wanted to join the hollow ones, the voice was too soft to hear. A love, felt so far away. The coldness of the barrel was held tightly in my hands. As if, this was the answer to my problems. To my life. I took a deep breath, as if my lungs needed all the oxygen it could get, and pressed the coolness to my chin. It was like a release of warmth. It cooled my body. My heart was pounding so fast, I thought that it might pound out of my chest. It prison. Like it couldn’t wait to be free. Like I couldn’t wait. I sighed. For the hundredth time that day, the sigh carried. It seemed like it carried to the far reaches of the earth, and beyond. I felt something. I was compelled to act. I wanted to see what that was. It was so inviting… so gentle… so peaceful. The promise of such quiet, almost caressed my very being. So I pulled the trigger. Slowly, waiting for that split moment between life and death, between the very soul. The feelings I would actually feel. And I waited. Just a moment longer… until I broke down and cried. There was nothing that could bring me there. It was just an empty click. So I lived on, crying in the lap of the voice that kept whispering my name. That was there when I almost touched the very essence of the dead. But you want to know something? The only reason, I still live. The only reason I am here. Breathing, talking, walking. I am here, and not with the hollow ones, not because the trigger was never pulled. Not because, there was no ammo, or no will to fully pull that line, to twist it into something better. Quieter. No. it was all because a jam. The thud of the metal hitting the bullet… I still remember that thud. That soft, quiet thud. So now, as I am standing here… saying this… That thud echoes. And every once and while, I hear it call my name. Over and over. It calls. Wanting me, like I had wanted it. But now, I live. If only to be a hollow one. I guess… I guess they finally accepted me. I am, a Hollow One.

 

 

The First Time, To Feel

 

Such a sensation.

Such a feeling.

One, unlike any other.

Slowly growing.

Eyes. Ears. Mouth.

Arms.

Legs.

Fingers and toes.

 

Sitting up, in conversation.

A pause. That first time.

A kick.

A gentle kick.

Just letting itself be known.

Saying, "I am here."

That first kick.

That first feeling of slight bliss.

Joyfull bliss.

 

 

 

Imprint

Publication Date: 05-29-2012

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
To my loving Friends, who in reality, are my family. Thank you.