I was born to be broken
It seemed too veracious to be questioned
But I had my doubts, so I dared to return,
again, to the Battleground.
I patted Life's back, as he was about to leave
and asked if he had ever lived a life, of its own.
And he looked stunned, and then he smirked,
A smile of thousand secrets and a lie, weaved into a cackle.
The venerated paths, of Try and Try again
now constrained by Titian vines of the irrevocable
We must give up after a while, he said
as he banged his fists, at the now-empty table.
Once laden with fruits of scintilla
now darkened with spasms of relinquished memories
they haunt the walls of this paradise,
Souls of the martyrs that loved and lost, it reminds.
How many battles must I fight, before I give up
How many lessons shall we learn to make no vice?
How many miles to walk before I am gone
Before I realize,
I am Broken, to be Born.