Individuality..

Perchance,
I should not encroach,
those lovely green grass beds,
with a feet,
muddy and dirty from a long walk..

Perchance,
this silence should be allowed to grow,
and infiltrate my mind,
to spread in my veins,
slowly,to reduce me,
into molecules of dust,
of an oblivion thought,
in the rough hands of an unconcerned time..

Perchance,
a finger should stand across
my dried and cracked lips,
as a reminder,
again of the truth of the fallacy of a trust,
to remind,
'no questions to be asked and,
no answers should be expected ever'

Perchance,
the hurts and pains,
clumped inside ,
should be replaced by an emptiness,
and wait ,
the emptiness,to condense,
into a nothingness
and later to evaporate..

Shadows grown over and insinuated me,
cannot be removed,
the transparency of the soul,
cannot be regained,
by wiping off,
the blood stains of all rejections..

Yet this is a path owned by me
exclusively,
ornated by thorns and stones,
pits and cracks,
mirages of oases
and craftiness of quagmires..
So I should not hate it,
in delusory expectations of,
deceptive paradises;
as eventually I have to return,
to there,
where I am me,
unconcealed,
blotchy,
with all patches unexplained,
unquestioned,
unaltered.,
just to remain as me..