The Island

I am an island on the stretch
Unlike those of the green and 
those others with pines on it.

I have grave darkness and
silence like demise.

I have those zones to vacuum 
those bonds and ties that drag me along.

The solitude to empty the thoughts,
of all moments that broke my heart.

Not much of them to word it all 
for world to see and feel the same.

Those moments get tagged by words.
Ego, anger, jealousy and pride.

Sometimes it feels worsen than 
but closer to death parted from 
those other physical worlds. 

The thoughts of eternals spring out 
those times; detaching from dramas around.

Its hard, but not easy as seemed.
holding a smile and pretending as fine, 

No; there can't be a single strong love.
That copes with this pace of mine.

It feels good to pour out tears ;
Or scream out loud.

Yes, that is madness as sometimes its called; 
How could I not, when
I was messed and broken and torn apart.
Of attacks in silence.
When no world heard.

I reflect what I once took into me;
As victim at undesirable instances.

This burst is what I could deliver;
While I see a shore that seems to be near.
A beautiful shore; but a lonely island.