By Shawn Marc B. Carreon
A vessel that holds a heavy load,
Ends up paying such a heavy toll,
A price that shatters sanity whole,
My consciousness it stole.
Beneath jagged lines of slivering shame,
The stench of guilt still smells the same,
For as long as I wield my own jagged name,
I can only be the one to blame.
Lost, between my eyes that are blind,
Nothing is still something I try to find,
I still feel my soul so aligned,
Aligned along my head without a mind.
My sole purpose to live is pawned,
Pillars of rooks resemble my fraud,
I move without hurry, longing forlorn,
Checkmate, a word stripped from a tongue adored.**