Poetry

Entrailes were sucked by grief 
and pleasure bruised; 
beyond the possible 
I aspired to find 
meaning of life. 
 
A will to reject 
unbearable waste, 
I trim humiliation. 
Time scares by taking revenge 
breaking the inner serenade, 
and I climb the doubts. 
 
Heartache persists without revelation. 
no bitterness descends. 
I dip my fingers in blood 
to write a flaming entity. 
 
Tell me where the masks are assembeled? 
Where the lies are born?