Can you curb the rising terror?
Because as I utter blunt words,
The beast's thirsty eyes glow.
The canvas on which I painted,
(torn up in fresh provocations),
Confounds my movements,
I cuddle my colors, fear drowns!
'Art on walls can never kill you!'
I repeat, to release my mind from
the large limbs, clawed and lethal.
Is reality a self created haven
where old men go out for adventure,
To torture their insanity with
the pangs of living a sane life?
Because the animal in its ferocity,
Seems a centered spot in infinity,
Where all my terrors meet abruptly.
I realized the vulnerability of it,
(my hands, destined to be bloody),
What stops me is not my will,
But my unreasonable share of mind.
The beast growls, the fear is real,
But I doubt about his claws,
I shall believe only if it kills.
The canvas on which I painted
confounds my sane movements,
I repeat (enjoying the transition),
'Arts on walls can never kill you!'
Yet I misjudged his skill, and
the size of his painful inflictions,
His vigilant eyes smiled, in triumph!