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Returning Prayer.

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If every slit of a heartstring,
Sin and pain lead me to this moment.
That each ounce of evil that tormented my soul would consequence to this occurrence, here, now.
Kneeling before my Lord.

Then I would happily go back,
and endure them again.
I would reach out to the knives that penetrated the firmness of my back
as a mother would reach for her child.
I would inhale the sweet aroma of pain,
as a fasting man inhales the fragrance of sustenance.

I would go back again, and again.
Journeying through the road of decapitated emotions,
if they lead me back to this….

By Ali R Ilyas

Loose

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Let your soul loose,

Let it wonder,

Let it be lost in the remembrance of your Creater.

For to be lost, is to be found in his presence.

– By Ali Ilyas

A Suicidal Thought || #Suicidal Poetry 01

Dangerous Risk Adrenaline Suicide by Fear of F...

A suicidal thought consumed the mind, even though inspiration from the divine flourished. I was still malnourished.

Saddened by events that had past, but still  upon my memory they stood clear as water, reflecting into my present.

I was not suicidal yet so close i was to jump.

Its not about attention, if it’s attention i crave then i wouldn’t be sat in a room all alone with a blade to the Skin.

Trying to pierce each sin.

To let it drop from my veins and splash against the warmth on my skin, to embrace the coolness of the metal that cleanses my body and cleanses my sin.

Its not about Bravery, because honestly it takes a lot out of me to tell you that i’d rather not be.

Be alive and strive for a world that i can’t class as mine.

Feeling close to the divine, but it feels like he’s left this world of mine.

Suicide is not an option, because I know its just for a limited time, this test of mine.

By Ali Ilyas

The Confounded Heart [Poem]

Loves Lost

Confounded Heart

My heart hurts like hell.

But it feels like i’m stuck in a well.

Walls all around caving in.

Water gushing up rising.

Soaking my body.

Choking my throat.

Such a strong grip unable to get loose.

Unable to choose, which way should one leave this world full of abuse.

Which method to use.

One destined by God All Mighty, or a diversion from a servant of a cheating Soul. Only God can make you whole.

In this world his grip seems to be diminishing, reminiscing on the times when everything was so innocent.

Peoples words may stain the soul, leave wounds so deep, that every tear shed on Earth, every word  spilled, can not fill, these wounds so deep.

Every good deed, every child birth, every miracle, every answered prayer does not make it fair, to bare these wounds so deep.

As we weep, walking around like misguided sheep, can we really conceive happiness with our following feet, puppets of this savagery trying to live lavishly compromising our humanity.

By Ali Ilyas