The Pet

I live in the world as devil's toy, full of chaotic lies.
And pray to the God with many eyes.
In the murals of memories inscribed in dormant deeds
I dread to stare and scratch the surface of solace.

Softly breathing with gasping noise to my existence
Impeached by a dilemma of falsified beliefs
The lid was taken off the enclosed cubicle with bites
Someone skinned me that day, raw; like a rotten meat.

Cloths soaked in memoirs of blood I was burned
Bruised by pins of dirty words my bare body was pierced
Devotees of many-eyed God laughed at me with no regrets
Taming my soul under the chains of a Psychotic peace.

For days after nights and nights taking slow strolls
I was sliced as a whole and sewed back together
As madness danced behind those calm veil of capriccio.
Time became a witness to my extant as a pet.

The ones who sowed the lashes lived in gentlemen's clothes

Under the blooms of perfect presentation of a chaotic lore

With every flow of sand as I stare into the stagnant stars
They come, they watch, they burn me and laugh. Always.